Battle Mage Visions (A Tale of Alus Book 12) by Donald Wigboldy Page A
Authors: Donald Wigboldy
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wasn't the same as essentially killing someone.
"Lie down, Nalack. I have to say that this next part might be rather unpleasant, but remember that in the end you will be alive and your own man once more."
The wraith's eyes revealed worry, but he had been ordered to lie down and didn't fight his master.
Like all necromancy magic, there was usually the cost of blood between the caster and the subject of his spell. Even the lesser puppets required that cost, but it was less draining than the more complete spells used for a wraith or resurrecting someone. Without blood, he doubted that the cost could be covered even by someone as powerful as the emperor or his siblings.
This time the cost wasn't giving of his blood and spirit, but in taking it back or releasing it again. Palose placed a bowl on the table making Nalack raise an eyebrow questioningly. The warlock was as useless as Sylvaine and the others for this part, so there was nothing for him to compare it to, except perhaps some reading the man had done about thirty years earlier.
The warlock had pointed ears, Palose noted. He was one of the many elves who had been born to those who had followed the emperor rather than be killed. They were said to have long lives, but the mage couldn't tell how old he truly was. It was an unimportant thought though and the dark mage needed to push it to the back of his mind as he prepared the difficult spell.
Reversing the magic of being a wraith was in the books, but he didn't like the sound of what he was about to put Nalack through to get where they were going.
Chanting the counter spell, Palose closed his eyes to avoid that red stare. His life, or unlife, was literally in the mage's hands. Nalack screamed as new wounds formed on his chest. The marks which had been set to create him bled out and the blood lifted from the wraith causing him to shudder and scream more as the life essence was drawn out of the half dead man.
Oween paled, a surprising ability to find in one already pale from being a wraith. She was watching her future and fear of the pain was in her red eyes. While she wanted to feel truly alive once more, this second death looked more painful than the first. The woman turned away, covered her ears to block the screams, and closed her eyes mumbling a little prayer to any of the gods of the old world or new that would listen to her.
Not alone in her pained look, Sylvaine and Dorgred appeared ready to do the same if they could only look away from the scene.
Blood rose and dropped into the large bowl even as the wraith shuttered and screamed. It took longer than the mage had expected, since the magic had tied to the body strongly. Such a deep root had been necessary to reach the half life of a wraith.
The screaming stopped and Nalack lay still. He was dead once more, but the necromancer knew that his spirit was close. It was in pain or perhaps it simply felt the loss. While he couldn't see it, the man could feel Nalack tied to the blood.
Taking a knife, Palose cut his hands. New blood would be needed to return the warlock once again.
Unlike his previous rituals, the dark mage had to use both the blood in the bowl and that from his cuts to draw out the runes he had chosen. In the previous spells, the spirits had been called back from death using just the blood from his cuts. It was his spirit that joined with theirs, but Nalack was already tied to him as a wraith.
His chanting renewed after the runes had been drawn along Nalack's arms, head and torso. He had to paint runes on the man's bared feet as well, but now was the time of true magic. The blood and runes were just the preparation. Palose felt the tug on him as he pulled Nalack back into his body.
A cut was made for resurrections on the chest, but the wounds were already formed. His blood would be drawn into the cut as he placed one hand over the wound and one over his lips. This time Palose used the blood from the bowl first. He poured it into Nalack's mouth and
"Lie down, Nalack. I have to say that this next part might be rather unpleasant, but remember that in the end you will be alive and your own man once more."
The wraith's eyes revealed worry, but he had been ordered to lie down and didn't fight his master.
Like all necromancy magic, there was usually the cost of blood between the caster and the subject of his spell. Even the lesser puppets required that cost, but it was less draining than the more complete spells used for a wraith or resurrecting someone. Without blood, he doubted that the cost could be covered even by someone as powerful as the emperor or his siblings.
This time the cost wasn't giving of his blood and spirit, but in taking it back or releasing it again. Palose placed a bowl on the table making Nalack raise an eyebrow questioningly. The warlock was as useless as Sylvaine and the others for this part, so there was nothing for him to compare it to, except perhaps some reading the man had done about thirty years earlier.
The warlock had pointed ears, Palose noted. He was one of the many elves who had been born to those who had followed the emperor rather than be killed. They were said to have long lives, but the mage couldn't tell how old he truly was. It was an unimportant thought though and the dark mage needed to push it to the back of his mind as he prepared the difficult spell.
Reversing the magic of being a wraith was in the books, but he didn't like the sound of what he was about to put Nalack through to get where they were going.
Chanting the counter spell, Palose closed his eyes to avoid that red stare. His life, or unlife, was literally in the mage's hands. Nalack screamed as new wounds formed on his chest. The marks which had been set to create him bled out and the blood lifted from the wraith causing him to shudder and scream more as the life essence was drawn out of the half dead man.
Oween paled, a surprising ability to find in one already pale from being a wraith. She was watching her future and fear of the pain was in her red eyes. While she wanted to feel truly alive once more, this second death looked more painful than the first. The woman turned away, covered her ears to block the screams, and closed her eyes mumbling a little prayer to any of the gods of the old world or new that would listen to her.
Not alone in her pained look, Sylvaine and Dorgred appeared ready to do the same if they could only look away from the scene.
Blood rose and dropped into the large bowl even as the wraith shuttered and screamed. It took longer than the mage had expected, since the magic had tied to the body strongly. Such a deep root had been necessary to reach the half life of a wraith.
The screaming stopped and Nalack lay still. He was dead once more, but the necromancer knew that his spirit was close. It was in pain or perhaps it simply felt the loss. While he couldn't see it, the man could feel Nalack tied to the blood.
Taking a knife, Palose cut his hands. New blood would be needed to return the warlock once again.
Unlike his previous rituals, the dark mage had to use both the blood in the bowl and that from his cuts to draw out the runes he had chosen. In the previous spells, the spirits had been called back from death using just the blood from his cuts. It was his spirit that joined with theirs, but Nalack was already tied to him as a wraith.
His chanting renewed after the runes had been drawn along Nalack's arms, head and torso. He had to paint runes on the man's bared feet as well, but now was the time of true magic. The blood and runes were just the preparation. Palose felt the tug on him as he pulled Nalack back into his body.
A cut was made for resurrections on the chest, but the wounds were already formed. His blood would be drawn into the cut as he placed one hand over the wound and one over his lips. This time Palose used the blood from the bowl first. He poured it into Nalack's mouth and
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