A Killer Late Fee

“First of the Heavens, bind these poor souls to the earth. Let them be as all things, beneath thy heel. Adamu.” The air in the cemetery seemed to distort for a moment, then every walking corpse within twenty paces of the young priest dropped to the ground as if pressed by enormous weight. “Hurry with the fire, Zan!”

“What, you can’t just pray them into dust?” the sorcerer drew glowing runes in the air with one ungloved hand while the other held a fragile-looking book with silver bindings. His hood had been blown back by the cool autumn wind, revealing a shaggy head of dark hair and eyes that seemed to glow with an inner green light in the dark.

“What do you think I’m trying to do!? I’m a novice, not a blasted Hierophant!” the priest’s simple robe shimmered with unearthly light and the pressure on the undead seemed to redouble. The autumn wind found no hair on his head to blow, but it sent a shiver down his spine. “If you hadn’t taken a book from the Lost Arcanum we wouldn’t be here in the first place!”

“Done. Step right!” Zan flung out a handful of green fire that spun itself into a burning serpent. It moved swiftly, dragging its body over every mouldering corpse that had been pinned to the ground and catching a few that had been caught outside the priest’s invocation. “There. Now isn’t that a lot easier than conducting divine power, Faer?” Zan shook the few flickering flames still clinging to his hand into the recently vacated grave next to him.

“Sorcery.” Faer spat. “It might seem easier now, but all power comes at a price. At least I know the price I pay.”

“Give the preaching a rest and lead the way.” Zan opened a small chronograph and checked the stellar alignment. “We don’t have long before the Curse takes full effect.”

“One of these days you’re going to get into trouble I can’t get you out of.” Faer wiped the sweat from his head and pulled up his hood against the cold.

“I have faith in you.” Zan accompanied his verbal jab with a light punch to the shoulder.

“You’re lucky I took a vow of charity.” Faer looked at the terrible mess the Curse had made of the graveyard and winced. “Speaking of charity… Third of the Heavens, set right this injustice. Caein.” A pulse of energy went out from Faer and the ground swallowed up the remnants of the men and women whose rest was disturbed. 

The pair walked quickly toward the center of the abandoned City of Magia, keeping a wary eye out for the monsters that nested in the crumbling buildings. The night sky was clear, and the Seven shone brightly overhead. Faer looked up and whispered a prayer of gratitude to the physical representations of the Seven Guiding Lights of Heaven. He knew Zan didn’t understand his devotion, just as he didn’t understand Zan’s constant pursuit of power. “Friends are a mystery, to be treasured as something beyond mortal understanding.” he spoke aloud the words of his Superior who had sent him on this foolish errand. 

“What was that?” Zan asked, having clearly been shaken out of his own mental meanderings.

“One of the Proverbs of Adamu. Novice-Master Evente said that right before he dumped this mess on me. I don’t understand that one yet.”

“What if you never get it? Your power is based on spiritual insight. What if this is as far as you go?” Zan asked, honestly curious. 

“Then it’s as far as I go. Abandonment to the Order of Heaven is the first principle of my order. If the Seven ordain I remain a novice then it shall be so.” There was a long silence between them. Zan thought the answer over, trying to figure out how someone could live like that, with their fate determined by others. Zan only spoke up again once the Arcanum was only a short sprint away.

“That’s a lot of trust in beings you’ve never met. Or understand.” Zan looked at the only undamaged building in the ruins, still standing after two centuries of neglect and natural erosion. It was a domed building made of stone and set with colored windows 

“That’s a much longer argument. And we have other issues at hand.” Faer pulled the small mace from his belt. One of the greatest advantages of being a priest was being able to sense ill-intent. Something bearing a lot of hatred was looking at them. The vine-entangled ruins still stood high enough to hide enormous monsters behind the crumbling walls.

“Any idea what it is?”

“I’m. A. Novice.”

“Stop saying that!”

“Stop asking me for miracles!” The argument was disturbed by a hissing voice.

“Silence, trespassers. Disturb not this place with your vulgar words.” gliding out from behind a stone column, a desiccated corpse of a woman sneered at them.

“Out of the way, hag. I have business in the Arcanum.” Zan flexed his rune-casting hand and brought to mind the formula for his fire serpent spell.

“Hag?” The word made ice coalesce in Faer’s stomach. This wasn’t some mindless undead. The desiccated skin and bared teeth made him wonder if they were facing a genuine lich. If that was the case, neither of them would live much longer.

“How long before the Curse is fully active?” Faer asked.

“Sunrise.” Zan said. “We can’t wait for sunlight to weaken this thing or the book will kill me.”

“You make life complicated.” Faer grumbled. “Sixth of the Heavens, give succour to the weary traveler and guide their steps along the straight path. Furiel.” Fatigue from two days on the road and the minor injuries they’d suffered from the monsters the book’s Curse had attracted vanished.  “Seventh of the Heavens-”

“Be silent!” the undead’s voice shook the air around them and Faer’s prayer faltered. Zan began drawing runes but a wave of the monster’s hand shattered them as if they’d been painted on a piece of cheap glass. “Trespassers are not welcome in the Library of the Arcanum.”

“Stand aside, lich. First of the Heavens, drive this abomination from your sight as you once drove Chaos from the sky. Adamu.” Nothing happened. The world itself should have done its best to destroy the desiccated woman. Faer has personally seen lighting strike a monster after that prayer had been invoked by an older priest. 

“See! Can’t depend on Heaven for anything!” Zan finished his last rune with a flourish and his fire serpent manifested. 

“Silence!” the lich made that same motion with its hand, the serpent falling to ash in an instant, the magic supporting it snuffed out. Zan froze. Even with a completed spell he couldn’t come close to touching that monster.

“Hey, Faer?” Zan’s voice wavered a bit. When the priest looked over he saw Zan reaching for the clasp on the borrowed book. “You should probably run. I’ll do what I can to hold it here.” 

“Cease your prattling, unruly child. This is a place of quiet.” Something fell into place in Faer’s head. He frantically bolted for his friend, before things got any worse. Zan struggled when Faer clamped a surprisingly strong hand over his mouth. Faer moved his hand across his neck, signalling that Zan should keep silent. The sorcerer glanced back at the lich, but nodded cautiously. Faer removed his hand, then began making complicated hand signals in the lich’s direction. To Zan’s complete surprise, the lich began signalling back at Faer. Without speaking another word, the duo were allowed to pass. Zan placed the ancient book back in the open slot he’d taken it from a month ago and all sensation of a curse vanished. It wasn’t until they were half a day from the ancient library that Zan broke down and asked the priest what had happened.

“That wasn’t a lich. It was a spiritbound. It’s not allowed in my order, but some who serve the Seven have their bodies mummified and preserved so that their souls can be called back. They make powerful guardians, but the imperfect state of their body means they tend to be very single-minded. As the protector of a library, the guardian wanted us to keep our voices down, so we wouldn’t disturb others who had come to learn.”

“We were nearly killed by a librarian?” Zan’s face was somewhere between disbelief and complete embarrassment. “We are never telling this to anyone. Ever.”

“I know you hate me preaching to you, but there’s a lesson here for you to learn.”

“Don’t talk loud in libraries?”

“No. It’s not about power. It’s about conforming yourself to the right way of doing things. That was the only way to save your life.”

“Maybe, but if I had enough power to kill the librarian I could have done it all the same.”

“Hypothetically true, but you didn’t. Power cannot open every door.”

“Really? What door can’t power open?”

“No power, not even the Seven, could make me your friend if I did not want to be.”