The Lich Without a Soul Vessel

The land floated in the air. The various landmasses seemed loosely connected, but not entirely — the edges of each fell away into bottomless chasms, red as though molten rock churned somewhere far below. From atop the mountain, they could see clearly that on that distant landmass, figures seemed to be locked in battle, though the distance was too great to make out any detail.

The clouds closed back over everything below. Evan glanced at Ronaldo. "I'm going to that landmass. Are you coming?"

"Of course I am. There are people there — maybe they'll know where the Saint's Skull is," Ronaldo said.

The two of them flew down the mountain and reached the edge of the landmass. Before they'd even drawn close, they noticed roiling mist rising from the ground and the reek of sulfur filling the air. Up close, they found the drop below of unknowable depth, a thin red line of magma visible far down, though they couldn't make out anything clearly. Evan dropped a stone in and heard no sound of it landing for a long while — either it had reached the bottom, or it had simply been swallowed by the magma.

Crossing wasn't a problem for Evan, but it was for Ronaldo — the gap was too wide. They scouted along the edge and found a narrower gap not far ahead, following the chasm to that point. It was indeed narrower there. Ronaldo leapt across and landed right at the far edge — but the moment he touched down, a creaking, cracking sound rose, and the ground beneath his feet began to crumble. His footing gave way, and he began to fall.

Evan reacted instantly, his hand flashing out in a gesture. A whirlwind rose from below, carrying the reek of sulfur, and swept Ronaldo back up. Evan crossed the chasm himself with a levitation spell, while Ronaldo spat and cursed — the wind, in scooping him up, had also churned dirt and dust all over him, into his nose and mouth besides.

He let out a disgusted cry. "That stinks. The soil reeks — like some rotting corpse."

At this, Evan scooped up a handful of dirt and held it beneath his nose. There was indeed a peculiar, rotten, bloody odor to it. His brow furrowed — nothing about this place felt right.

Ronaldo spat a few more times, feeling somewhat better, then turned to Evan. "Let's move. I don't want to stay here — this ground might collapse again any moment."

No sooner had he said it than a patch of earth nearby crumbled away. Evan quickly stepped back several paces, and Ronaldo hurried away from the edge as well.

They headed toward where they'd seen figures earlier. Before they'd gone far, a corpse appeared before them — not one of the Church's people. Judging by its build, the muscles looked firm, and the death seemed recent. It looked as though the man had been run through the heart by a single blade. Evan crouched down; the wound had been made by a sidearm, clean and precise. An image of Tina swinging her sword rose unbidden in his mind.

"Run through the heart with a single stroke. Whoever did this was skilled," Ronaldo said, running his hands over the body. The moment his fingers touched the man's skin, he let out a startled sound. "That's not right. Why does he feel like this?"

Evan noticed it too, running a hand over the corpse. The flesh felt like cotton wool, as though it had turned entirely to liquid — even the blood inside seemed to have vanished, and the bones themselves were softening. Poison on the blade, perhaps? No, that didn't fit either — Evan sensed nothing of the sort at all.

"Could it be poison?" Ronaldo asked, arriving at the same question.

"Doesn't seem to be. I can sense that much. But if his body's liquefying, what's really behind it?" Evan said.

At his words, Ronaldo drew his blade from behind his back and made a light cut. Though the body had liquefied, it held together like jelly rather than spilling out. He examined the blade — no change there either. Both men were puzzled. Just then, Evan struck out suddenly, black smoke spreading in an instant, and a translucent spider the size of a football burst into view with a croaking sound, leaping up. Ronaldo lunged forward with his rapier, and with a soft thump the spider was skewered on his blade.

The spider still thrashed, claws bared. Ronaldo gave his wrist a light flick, the blade flashing, and flung it away. "So this is what caused it. Unbelievable. All right, we can't waste any more time here. Any idea where the Saint's Skull might be?"

Just then, a pillar of light shot up, connecting earth and sky. Ronaldo's body shuddered violently, and he broke into a run straight toward it, not even remembering to call out to Evan. Something stirred in Evan, and he followed after.

In about the time it takes to finish a meal, the two of them arrived at a place where a great hole had opened in the ground, the pillar of light shooting up from within. Evan looked down into the hole — it was deep, and within it, faintly, he could make out a figure. Not a figure, exactly — a skull. It radiated a fierce light, and around it, blood-colored tendrils reached toward it, straining to seize it, but the skull's overwhelming radiance kept the tendrils from making contact for the moment.

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The instant Ronaldo arrived, he made to leap straight in. Evan grabbed hold of him. "Do you want to die?"

Before Ronaldo could respond, Evan heard the whisper of cloth cutting through air, and figures appeared all around them, splitting into two distinct groups. One group belonged to the Creationist Church's clergy — its leader clad entirely in crimson, robe, mantle, and square cap alike, the color signifying willingness to bear witness to the faith through bloodshed, even unto death. Behind him marched a company of holy knights. The moment he arrived and laid eyes on the holy light below, he dropped instantly into a formal bow, murmuring, "Lord, your radiance knows no bounds."

He rose, his face grave, and announced, "These are the bones of Saint Simon. Those outside the Faith are to withdraw at once." He raised a hand, holy light gathering above it, and reached down, meaning to draw the Saint's Skull up out of the pit.

Ronaldo, alarmed, drew his blade, white light blazing along it. "Nonsense! This is a relic of the Dominion Society — only the Dominion Society has the right to keep it safe." He swung down with his blade, but a knight standing behind the cardinal drew his sword in an instant, a bar of white light blocking Ronaldo's strike.

"The Dominion Society was declared heretical by Pope Gregory himself. To claim this relic while consorting with the heretic Nicholas makes you a heretic yourself — and you dare try to seize a holy relic?" the knight said.

Evan realized the man had recognized him. "Well spoken, Creationist Church — branding others heretics while decreeing that whoever bows to you prospers and whoever defies you perishes. You think entirely too highly of yourselves. You twist the Maker's teachings to suit your own ends, and whatever isn't yours, you simply seize." As he spoke, he clenched a hand, black smoke coalescing into a net, and reached down into the pit.

The other group struck at the same moment. Three forces collided within the pit at once. Evan sensed his own black smoke wasn't being significantly repelled, and he recalled what Ronaldo had told him of Saint Simon's teachings — his spirits lifted at once. He'd worried the holy light might reject his own dark energy, but it seemed that worry had been unnecessary.

The three forces clashed like a peal of muffled thunder, none of them gaining any advantage. Evan had been cautious at first, striking mainly to back up Ronaldo and to spite the Creationist Church.

Seeing this now, his spirits rose further. Since the holy light posed little threat to him, he could fight without restraint.

Just as his own spirits lifted, the other two groups sensed something as well, and their own morale surged. With a great whoosh, bat wings unfurled from a figure's back, blood-red arcane patterns shot through with dark gold spreading rapidly across the wings. Evan's brow furrowed — vampires. Which clan were they from? They didn't resemble either of the two clans he'd encountered before.

The bat wings sliced through the air, becoming a streak of blood-red light, driving straight toward the pit. The cardinal saw this and flew into a rage. "Filthy creature! Do you dare defile Saint Simon's holy remains?"

He began chanting, "The Lord has said: all unclean creatures shall be cast down into hell!" A thick beam of holy light plunged down from the sky, striking directly at the vampire.

The vampire let out a shriek. "Aulbach! You never mentioned the Saint's Skull in our negotiations. You deceived me first — did you think I wouldn't dare kill you for it?" A thick, bloody black mist surged up around him at once. The holy light, fierce as it was, couldn't penetrate the dense fog.

Evan had no idea what had passed between them before, but he understood now — when interests were at stake, principles could apparently be set aside for the moment. He couldn't help but wonder if either side had any principles to begin with.

The three sides fought in a chaotic melee, sword-light crossing in every direction, spells roaring, dust rising in clouds. Just then, another party arrived. At the sight of them, Evan's spirits lifted — it was the New Church's side, Bishop Oliver's party had come. Tina was among them. They had clearly been through a hard fight — many of the knights bore wounds, and Tina's own surcoat was stained with blood.

The moment Tina spotted Evan, a smile broke across her face. Aulbach, seeing Oliver, called out loudly, "Brother in faith, you've arrived at the perfect moment! Help me drive off these two bands of heretics!"

Seeing the situation, Oliver — though the New Church and the Old Church rarely saw eye to eye — recognized that both shared the same faith in the Maker, and that common faith gave them a common enemy here. Oliver gave the order, and the eight knights behind him joined the fray. Evan pulled Ronaldo back, and the two of them retreated with the flow of the battle, but two of the Old Church's knights pursued them.

Ronaldo reached back for his blade, but Evan shook his head at him. He hesitated, then lowered his hand, even as his pursuers pressed closer.

Evan smiled faintly, and a beam of light suddenly shot from his eyes, striking the knight before him squarely. The knight fell into a daze, seeing Evan standing right in front of him, and threw himself into a furious, relentless assault, while the real Evan stood calmly off to one side. His opponent was, in truth, fighting a phantom, locked in an inconclusive struggle against the illusion.

Evan casually pointed a finger, black smoke curling from it. The battlefield was chaos, dust flying everywhere; apart from Tina, and those two unfortunate knights, no one else noticed a thing — the pair were already locked in combat with their respective phantoms. Ronaldo let out a breath of relief and stood back to watch. The pillar of light still shot up from the pit's mouth, more violent than ever now, but short of joining the fight directly, there was no way to reach it.

Evan gestured, and a barrier sprang up around them — with Tina conveniently drawn inside it.

"Wang, what are you doing here?"

"I heard you'd gone missing. I couldn't just sit by, so I came. Why did you all go so deep into this place? What were you after?"

"We came to visit Hattusa. We were ambushed in the Caucasus range — Snow Werewolves were behind it. We tracked them back here and found murals in a cave. Oliver said it depicted an evil god named Josephine, who had already fallen — we never expected the Snow Werewolves, and a clan of vampires besides, to still be worshipping him. So we came into this place, and we've been attacked again and again since. We've lost several of our own. Oliver believes the god's core is still active here. We came for the core," Tina said.

"You weren't here for the Saint's Skull, then?" Ronaldo asked.