The Wielder of Death Magic

‘We’re a bit too late,’ he moved towards the stained glass, grabbed a nearby cloth, and swiped, “-do we have contacts in the pharmaceutical world?” he asked, the voice resounded behind the onlookers for noise didn’t travel across the room. Marie jumped and checked, the speakers suddenly spoke, throwing her already hesitant nature in a loop.

“Marie?”

“Yes, we have a department.”

“I’ll contain the infection here, everyone in quarantine must make their way to the lower labs. Order for a first-aid area – the gravity of the biological weapon isn’t to be trifled with,” when saying so, signs of the plague appeared. The arms and face darkened, skin flaked, adding pressure suffice to crumble the necrotic areas, “-you see,” he pointed to a darkened finger, “-the plague is worse than I imagined,” he tapped, the member fell, “-I’m certain the infection rate is worse than the actual malady.”

The whole laboratory closed, none left the building, a triage was established, many showing signs and symptoms were sent to the ground floor, and those unexposed were placed on the higher floors. Marie led the orders, her words and demeanor guided the confused and the desperate, ‘-are we under attack?’ crossed her mind many times. Death of the researcher sprinkled doubt, ‘-if they infiltrated this far, who is to say there aren’t any others?’

Meanwhile, as the hours passed – Igna stayed confined. Worst was yet to come, and he understood how much the pain would affect judgment, *connecting éclair,* read the interface, “-master?” he answered, “-what a pleasant surprise.”

.....

“No time for idle chat. Any updates on scout unit in Arda?”

“They reached the beforementioned area a few days back. The search is long as they have to traverse the Ardanian rainforest. Why, should I have them increase the pace?”

“No,” a report crossed the channels, “-here’s where we stand.”

The Prime minister took a few minutes to read, the voice returned impatiently, “-are we under attack?”

“I dug through his memories and found the nature of the mission. Infiltration of Hidros’s brain, Rotherham. I have reason to say the city’s the focus of their attack. Perhaps it’s a ruse, who knows, can’t make moves on assumptions. Have it relayed to Elvira, I’ll leave the rest in thy capable hands,” said a mild chuckle, “-prove thy worth.”

“Prove thy worth...” echoed, the call ended, leaving éclair idle in the new office. ‘-Biological weapon unleashed at the laboratory. Infiltration of Rotherham’s airspace is a play to test the capabilities of its defenses. Destruction of the lab ran simultaneously with another mission. Like master said, playing a guessing game won’t achieve much,’ he stormed out, crossed the street, and entered Countess Eira’s office. A melancholic receptionist answered éclair’s sudden arrival by showing the way up.

*Tap, tap,* “-enter,” said an unimpressed voice.

“Lady Eira,” he walked to her desk and placed a report.

‘He seems weary,’ she checked his demeanor and stared at the paper. More lines read, the narrower grew her harsh squint, “-right,” the paper fell and resounded silently throughout her desk, “-what are we supposed to do?”

“The secondary mission must involve biological warfare. We’ve yet to find the source of the launch.”

“Tell me,” she leaned into her chair, “-did it ever cross your mind the attacks could have been from another mothership?”

“It did, probability-”

“Enough,” she interjected, “-probability means nothing in war. Don’t underestimate thy enemies,” éclair soon found himself following the countess to the ministry of Defense, there, a sudden council meeting brought into the fray the newly formed ministries.

“Let’s skip formalities,” said Ela, an acknowledging nod went around. They took up the reports and ingested the information.

“What about a cure?”

“We don’t have the facilities to mass-produce a cure even if the malady is treatable,” voiced éclair, answering Ela’s question.

“Is the attack confirmed?” inquired a suspiciously skeptical Minerva, “-what if tis a ploy, a carefully planted lure?”

Alas, the general’s hopeful skepticism turned nightmare, *-urgent report,* flashed, “-lord éclair,” gasped a frantic young man working the market street of port-town Smith of Kreston, location of rest for the Hidrosian Naval force.

A volley of rain droplets crashed against man’s castles, nature’s ire felt through a drop in temperature. Heavy gusts sprinted down Monsia Range and swept the streets. Traders hurried to shelter; inns and taverns opened their doors. Take away overindulgence in religious practices and one would have a typical townscape of reminiscent architecture. Warm fires lit the insides amber – albeit the middle of the day outside felt more towards the coming of dusk. In one of the many inns, a little boy of demi-human nature found himself trapped in a loop of never-ending coughs. Healing potion and magic had no effects – worried parents hastily ran to the local physician, knocking at his door and screaming for help. The father’s desperation forced his hand onto the handle, the door opened without struggle. The smell of burning caught his heightened sense, “-fire,” said the father, “-call on the local guards.” Bystanders drew to the house immediately.

“What’s happening?”

“The doc’s house is on fire,” cried the father, “-take him to the inn.” A terrified mien slapped the father, “-he’s not...” said the mother, “-he’s not b-breathing.”

“WHAT?” torn between fire and son, the man chose the latter, leaving the house in the hands of the coming guards. He frantically tapped his son’s cheeks, however, there was no coming from death – black marks soon marred the neck, chest, and abdomen. Similar marks appeared on the father, who looked at his wife in disbelief. Under the listless gaze of the mountain peaks, the monster plague took the life of a family – they fell quickly, sending terror across the streets – guards were stumped, unable to control the panic.

“THE PLAGUE!” ran across town, “-THE PLAGUE!” Tavern and inn owners threw their customers to the elements, shutting their doors, and closing their windows. Temperature dropped further, young adventurers – orphans of the fighting age, died of hypothermia – many succumbed to the symptoms; Port Smith had a firsthand preview of what was to come. Doctor’s body was never found.

“We need medical supplies,” cried the attendant, “-lord éclair, help us.”

“When was this?”

“A few days ago,” he narrowed, “-communication lines were cut, and the town suffered a blackout. Infected are quarantined at a manor. If nothing changes, I’m afraid the entire population will drop.”

“Understood,” narrowed éclair.

“We’ll handle it,” interjected Eira, “-this falls in our department’s responsibility. General Minerva, you’re with me. éclair, have my brother find a cure as soon as possible and send the news to Lord Stark. Ela, we need medical supplies, understood?”

“Understood,” echoed, seats emptied, leaving éclair to think, ‘-Eira took charge of the situation. I was hesitant to take action and worried about ghosts. Should stand to learn a thing or two.’

Silence, peaceful tranquility of mind and body, ‘-pops,’ whispered a familiar voice, ‘-wake up,’ it said softly.

“Who is it?”

“Me,” replied a listless Vanesa, “-pops, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he rose from her lap and looked around, “-what about the plague?”

“Gone,” she burped, “-they stole the curse from me,” said a smile, “-pops, remember when you sent me across the world to spread illness?”

“Yeah?”

“Turns out the humans are smart to alter my babies and turn them into greater fiends. Still weak,” she glared, her oily green hair dropped beside her cheeks, “-pops, why not call me?”

“I don’t know,” he clambered, “-I’m being stupid.”

“What?”

“I’m being an idiot,” he tapped his forehead against the wall, “-I can end the war in a matter of seconds, all I have to do is walk into the battlefield and unleash the puppet army, pride of the Shadow Realm’s forces. I don’t know why I hesitate, feels too easy; I want to fight a war but not use my powers, does that make sense?”

“Not really,” she shrugged, “-pops, stop being indecisive,” she yawned, “-I notice it happened when the girl Loftha died... there’s, I don’t know, something weird about the aura.”

*Incoming call – Duke of Kreston.*

“Hello.’

“Greetings majesty,” said a grave tone, “-Kreston’s under attack. Dorchester launched their offensive earlier this morning – I was unable to send information to General Minerva, thus my call. Settling of a new church, a puritan way of following Lucifer’s teachings – it sounded great, majesty, I would have loved to be the face that leads the religious province of Kreston to theological marvel. As it stands, Brigadier General Erano Dunslav forces won’t be able to counter the forty-thousand men strong combined holy army. As the duke, I must lead my people to victory – Kreston has a combined force of ten thousand peasants. Pitchfork and rocks won’t survive against guns and tanks – such is a disparity of warfare – an advanced nation raises their banner against us. What happens today will be spoken in legends – I won’t allow a single man to destroy Kreston’s legacy. Pardon the sentiment, majesty. I would have prayed to my god, yet, something about you, majesty, can’t quite put my hands on it... my chest warms when I devote myself to his majesty instead of my lord. I’ve taken most of thy time. Majesty, promise revenge for Kreston, promise the safety of our province in my death.”

“Promise,” echoed a distant sigh, “-Pope Carrigan II, fight and win. Hold on the offensive and don’t yield, for tis grit and perseverance that wins a battle, not prayer and hope,” the call ended.

‘They’re out there fighting for Hidros, what am I doing,’ the head shook, ‘-I wanted to keep my hand hidden until going face to face against gods. They dared intrude on my people’s peace,’ purple flickers dotted around his limbs, “-Vanesa, any cure available?”

“Yeah,” she smiled, “-I got the cure right here,” she conjured a pill and exhaled deeply, “-I should go...” said a woeful tone, ‘-pops has what he needs, I’m not needed anymore...’

“Actually, Vanesa, care to join your old man in battle?”

“What?”

“Must I repeat myself?” he smiled for the first time in a month, “-let’s go.”

“Okay,” she cheered and dropped her shoulders, “-hungry...”

‘I smiled,’ they hurried downstairs, and threw cartons of pills onto the table, “-Marie, here’s the cure.”

“WHAT?”

“Cure for the plague. Seems the attackers lacked imagination.”

Ministry offices danced in folly, no end to the reports, “-I wish we had a bird’s eye view on the continent,” gritted éclair, “-Dorchester’s launched an attack and the province’s had their communication line cut. Port Smith’s attack was a ploy – it make sense, drawing focus from Kreston towards Rotherham – the threat alone sufficed. We fell hard into their hands. I hate this.”

“Outplayed,” commented Serene.

“Why are you here?”

“Report from King Igna,” a video played across the screens, “-to the ministers, Duke Carrigan II has asked of Hidros in their time of need, as a friend and ally to the duke, I must act upon my responsibility and aid his effort. General Minerva, have reinforcement retreat east, make way towards Port Smith. Erano Dunslav’s unit will face off against the forty-thousand men strong army. I won’t stand for arguments – tis a decree from thy king.” The next day soon climbed the horizon, king Igna’s message was heard clearly, no room for arguments – the ministers obeyed, putting trust in the sovereign. Train-bound reinforcement arrived at the Krestonian Cathedral and made way northeast.

“Marie,” echoed, “-is it ready?”

“I guess,” she returned, “-we needed a sure way of propulsion. Haven’t tested it yet, are you sure, majesty?”

“We need to send a message. ”