Scratch an errant lich 5

 

V

 

Jeronim returned to the group with a grubby bag.

“He left the knife,” he said. “They frightened him away; and I said I would take it to destroy it and him. I managed to heal the foal a little more; you felt me draw on you?”

“Yes; it was a good call,” said Amber.  “Let me see this knife.”

She unwrapped it carefully, using magic to do so, and with shields to prevent it from attacking, studying it astrally and with spells.

“Can we use it?” asked Jeronim.

“Hell, yes,” said Amber. “However, it’s going to be hard; I can get some sense of how hard he is from this, and I would like everyone to take a day or so to consider making a blood-bond of ourselves, not through amulet.”

She left them to discuss it whilst she and Wulf used their combined strength to forcibly scabbard the knife in a silver sheath to render it harmless.

 

“Well, you’ve had time to consider whether you want to go the whole way with the blood link ritual,” said Amber.  “I’m already blood-linked to Wulf, because I used it to cleanse his blood of being a werewolf. I think a lot of you have guessed that.”

“I don’t want to be linked closely enough to be in your head when you and he make out,” said Lázló, bluntly. “It’s bad enough overhearing you making little wolves and howling at the moon.”

“Oops?” said Amber. “No, there is the ability to step aside, as with the amulets. He doesn’t want to have periods, either, so ...”

“Oh, in that case, I have no objection,” said Lázló. “I like the feeling from the amulet, of closeness.”

“It would be nice to belong,” said Takeo.

“I need the protection,” said Zhanargul. “And I have liked the closeness.”

“We will be closer than siblings,” said Wojciech. “Yes? But it will not affect what is between Gosia and me?”

“No, it’s like the amulets but more,” said Amber. “And easier to reach for each other, and share power.”

“Then go for it,” said Wojciech.

Ritter was healed by now, and he nodded.

As the most stiff-necked of the group, Amber knew that if he agreed, all would be agreeable.

“I worked out a time, based on our names and birthdays,” she said.

“Of course you did, Amber,” laughed Jeronim.

“Well, on my mark, slit your palms and share,” said Amber.

 

The feeling of heady exhaustion and satisfaction on the part of the newly blood-joined was not expected, though with the level of ritual, Amber gave a rueful grin that she had not considered it.

She managed to summon chocolate from the cupboard, and that gave her the energy to make coffee and find kuchen of various kinds.

“Well, that does feel good,” said Lázló.  “I feel as if I could take on fifty zombies alone.”

“You could,” said Amber. “And we may need to concentrate power to deal with Abaris. I’ve been getting in reports, and I think we can move now; Orme made a computer projection based on his movements to date, using other ritual now, and we can combine that with a dowsing from Ágnes.”

“Well, finally!” said Wojciech.

 

Amber accordingly dressed in jeans and a blouse, transmogrified an ordinary hat into something akin to the disreputable object worn by Harrison Ford and transmogrified a whip into the semblance of a snake, because symmetry was symmetry and she was not Indiana Jones, who disliked snakes in any case, but coiled about her waist there was the suggestion of his whip.

Indiana Jones never wore New Rocks either.

But at least with the hat there was no chance anyone would mistake her for Lara Croft.

 

Ágnes was ready to dowse; and Amber passed her the now innocuous knife to ponder on.  Having belonged to Abaris for as long as it had, there was bound to be something about it that remained that could give a dowser a clue.

And the map globe was scrolling, moving, projecting; and a small light showed as Ágnes’s divining rods came together to project it to the place where the knife had its counterpart.

“Baghdad?  Well if there’s a place he can get away with gratuitous violence, that’s it” said Amber “With the current mundane conflicts and political and religious murders one oddball sacrifice or a dozen ain’t going to show up.  Hats, my children; it’s a hot place and I don’t want you dying of sunstroke on me, no I’m not joking.”

She had no intention of taking Lázló’s siblings, but the rest, the blooded would go. Jeronim, Lázló, Wojciech and Gosia, Ritter, Takeo and of course Wulf.  And Amber debated wearing a robe to blend in with the local women, decided that she could never blend in with Arab women and stuck to the jeans.  With her blonde hair she was obviously a Westerner and would either be avoided or likely to be marked for attack in any case.

“Be aware” said Amber “The women of this place tend to be treated like valued but non sentient house pets and are supposed not to show their faces and to cover them up.  We aren’t going to pretend to be locals; it’ll either make people avoid us or they’ll try to kill us.  Use non lethal force.”

 

They teleported smoothly in.  They linked hands and made sure they all landed in the same place. 

The heat beat down upon their heads and Amber thought of Sparhawk’s description of his time spent in such searing heat in David Eddings’ book.  It really was like hammer blows.  They moved into such little shade as there was; which was precious little and Lázló muttered,

“By the powers, you made no joke about dying of this heat; how can people live here?”

“Because they are used to it” said Amber.  “Which way?” Lázló had not the skill of his sister, but he could get something out of divining rods, and had volunteered to try.  

He wavered; then pointed with the rods. 

They set off.

The first encounter they had was with a patrol of American soldiers; and Amber said a brief, ugly word and smiled at the sergeant in command of the patrol.

He smiled back; she was worth looking at.

“Now then ma’am, I’m going to have to ask to see your pass; reporters aren’t supposed to be in these parts” he said.

Amber smiled brightly.

“These aren’t the droids you’re looking for” she said “We can go about our business and move along”

“These aren’t the droids we’re looking for” said the sergeant obediently to her voice control “You can go about your business; move along!”

They moved, hastily.

“Since when was I C3PO?” asked Jeronim as they got round the corner. StarWars was a film they had seen. Amber grinned.

 “I’d love to be a fly on the wall when the report of that goes to his colonel,” she said, chuckling. “Using the quote enhanced the suggestion.”

She reflected, on consideration, that a British sergeant would almost certainly report the incident however bad it made him look; an American sergeant almost certainly would not.  Americans hated things that were out of the ordinary; almost as much as Germans.

They had dodged down a couple of back alleys anyway in case the sergeant had the strength of mind to turn back and look for them; and Lázló plied divining rods again.

The half dozen Arabs with Kalashnikovs that glided out of houses did not look friendly.

The apparent leader said something harsh that presumably meant that the interlopers were to go with him.

Amber smiled brightly again.

“Wezwać broń” she said.

All the kalashnikovs flew from the hands of their wielders to her; Amber was that powerful.

She pointed one at the shocked insurgents.

“I count to ten” she said, checking her weapon was ready to fire. “One…two….three….”

The inference was obvious even if the words were not understood; and the erstwhile enemies fled howling some word that Amber guessed was ‘witchcraft’.

Well they were right on that score.

“Pick up the AKs” she said. “Treat the baby of Comrade Kalashnikov with due respect my children; and pass me the ammo.”  Extra ammunition never came amiss.

Lázló had a direction by this time and moved off, rods at the ready, Amber on point preceding him, doubling back if he had to change direction to take account of the lie of the streets.

They were soon in the narrowest and meanest streets; and eyes watched them constantly.  Amber muttered a chant and made sure to keep chanting to hold up a physical shield against supersonic as well as subsonic missiles; this was the sort of place where strangers were shot first and the corpse used for augury of what it wanted after.  She was using Yiddish to chant with; Amber was like that sometimes.

Once she was certain she had the shield up, Amber held it by whistling the theme from Indiana Jones because it seemed right.  It dragged the shield along with them which was what she had intended.

Lázló stopped at a low door.

Amber left off whistling; the shield should stay put for a while, at least until disrupted by the first bullet.  She looked around; and pounced.

The small boy was hiding in a pile of rubbish; and was doing a fairly successful job of it.

Amber gazed intently into his eyes and learned his language.

“Who lives here?  When did the scary man come?  What do you know?” she asked, again using voice control to prompt speech.  The child sobbed.

“It is my mother’s house and I was out getting supper when he came; and I did not go in because I heard a man’s voice and thought mother had a client and they do not like a boy around; but then mother started screaming and I looked in and he had tied her up and he was cutting her open and – and I ran away!”

The poor child was no more than six years old.

He was also entirely mundane; well, something would be done to care for him as he was probably now an orphan.

“Wait outside; we have come to kill the scary man,” said Amber.

“But you are only a woman!” said the boy.

“And what means that?” shrugged Amber, hefting her Kalashnikov in the professional manner of one well used to the weapon. “Salaam brat; your mother will be avenged by a woman as is only right.”

And then she exploded the door inward.

The woman still moaned feebly; Abaris was taking his time draining her life a little at a time to allow his ritual to work.  Abaris was chanting, deeply immersed in his ritual as coloured bands of light flowed from the dying woman into his own body, almost in a trance like state that the most complex of chants engendered.  He scarcely even registered the explosion of the door, certainly could not react in time as the young Talented burst in on him.  And then Amber was drawing on her new blood sibslings, and she hurled the lightening curse at Abaris, absently linking with Wulf that he throw up a lightening conductor not to burn the house down around them. 

It was spectacularly successful; the lich was himself a creature of magic, held together by enchantment.

Several thousand volts passing through his undead body did more than char it; it undid every last charm that had created it and the two thousand year old desiccated corpse crumbled into dust.

There was a small girl bound as well, a year or two younger than the boy; and the woman’s womb was exposed with the dead baby within it.

Amber removed the foetus; it would only complicate matters and if she was to have any chance at all of saving the woman she could do without complication.

Then she began chanting.  She did not need a projection to tell her where the damage was; she had read about rituals of this sort where the life force was gradually drained; it had to be slow to enhance the pain of the victim which enhanced the ability to use the ebbing life on the part of a seriously dark Talented.  And if he was ready to do this, Amber had no compunction about killing the lich.

The little boy sidled in.

“What are you doing to my mother?” he cried, running to Amber to hammer her with small fists.  Jeronim caught him. He still recalled some of the language he, too, had learned in a hurry, and had some knowledge of as well.

“Child, thy mother may yet live; the good lady is very powerful and may yet save her but not if thou disturbest her” he said “Cease thy wailing lest it kill thy mother!”

The boy gulped and was silent.

Takeo, Gosia, Wojciech, Lázló and Wulf were assisting Amber with basic healing chants; and observing her techniques to learn from.  Amber used power from the blood group to pour into the woman to replenish her almost absent life force.

“Boy, call her,” she said roughly.

The small boy complied; his little sister, untied by Gosia, was too terrified and traumatised to make a sound; and the little Polish woman was cuddling her.  Amber had little doubt that her fear had fed the ritual too; and that she would have been next to die.  Wojciech, not a chanter, was searching the clothes that were all that remained of the dead lich to remove anything dangerous and containing magic, even if as it seemed likely they had been disenchanted by electricity; as the creature also had a pack that seemed to contain most of his treasures he stuffed the gem focus and amulet of protection against efreet into that to take back. 

And the ugly wounds on the Arab woman healed; and her breathing became laboured and then easier; and her heartbeat stabilised.  Amber sank to a squat.

“She’ll do” she said.  “Can you hear me, little sister?”

The woman’s eyes flickered open.

“I – I am still in my home?  Have I not died and gone to paradise?”

“You are alive,” said Amber “The evil one who did this to you is dead; your brave son has helped call you back to care for him and his little sister.  Wojciech, see if the creep has any gold in his pack; they should have compensation.”

Wojciech nodded and searched.

“Here is strange coinage” he said.

Amber glanced.

“Lumme, it’s normal Ancient Greek coinage of his time, some of it” she said “That’s worth far more than the value of the gold.  Wojciech, take it to Marcus and ask him for a fair amount for the woman’s compensation in gold, perhaps in jewellery; and he can deal with selling the coins. She could get murdered for anything this valuable; and people trying to find out where it came from because of treasure hunters.  Marcus will know exactly what to do.”

Marcus did; and Wojciech returned queasy from jump-lag, with heavy gold bracelets that he presented to the woman.

“This for your trouble; because we would have wished to have found this evil before you were troubled by it,” said Amber. “Salaam little sister; may you and your family be well.”

“Salaam, noble stranger,” said the woman , bemused.  “Insh’Allah we will be very well with this kind gift.”

 

And then they teleported back to Festung Amber, and examined the belongings of Abaris.

The amulet of protection against Efreeti was, as Amber said, apart from now being only a decorative disc of metal, only of use against those of the fey who chose that form; because in the time of Abaris it was not known that they and Genii were but forms of the fey. 

“Fortunately, once the fey tie themselves into a form to be summoned, they find disassociating themselves from that form quite hard because it is there one tie on substance” she explained.

“There’s a crystal ball in here” said Ágnes, who was helping them look now they were home. “Why didn’t he use that?  He’d surely only keep it as a treasured item if he was a diviner; surely he could have used it to tell that you were coming for him?”

“For one thing, divination is a bit hit and miss; always in motion is the future,” said Amber “And for another, you have to kind of understand the nature of the future before you can actually tap a backwards memory from it; and he’s having enough trouble adapting to the future that is the present because we’re so way into his future that any future he sees might even be the past.”

“Run that past us slowly” said Árpád.

“Space and time make up the four dimensions of the universe” said Amber “And there’s a degree of mutability about it that enables some people to remember as it were into the future; or one future.  There are many paths which are changed as decisions are made; choosing to believe in a prophecy may make that prophecy path be the true one.  Now to deliberately look for the future – rather than being a true seer and falling into a trance which is no bloody good unless someone’s there to write down what you said – you have to have a feel of time passing and to know exactly how you relate to the nowness of now; to have some idea of what may happen in the then-ness of then, as you might say.  I’m no diviner; I’m translating the odd stuff I’ve heard from the more esoteric into language anyone might understand.  They have technical terms but that’d be like talking to twelve year olds about assimilative correlation and even so half of you don’t have a clue so I might as well be talking Scythian.  And I can’t remember the proper terms anyway because I was never that interested.  Anyway, Abaris had to adapt to the idea that the world had moved on more than two thousand years since he was last around; and even if he’d got his head round that intellectually, it was hard to assimilate deep down where it counts; so he couldn’t readily, I believe, connect with our future and his true future because to him the last couple of millennia in the past was still in his heart the future.”

“I think I kind of followed that” said Árpád.  “Twin?”

Ágnes nodded.

“I guess I’m going to have to get books and study on my own time” she said.

“’Fraid so; I can’t really help you” said Amber.

 

Amber contacted Orme so he could tell his Cairo contact that the nutcase had been finally caught up with in Baghdad and had received a rather summary death sentence; true enough and, too, believable. 

“Of course if he has more than one Phylactory he might return” said Orme “You know; return of the mummy, cue Imhotep.”

“I rather like Imhotep” said Amber mildly “Much nicer character; Ankh-sun-amun was a silly moo.  Abaris really had lost all his humanity in becoming undead; and actually if he’d had another phylactory I bet it would have been among his treasured items and I don’t think that mere electrocution would have disabled it; and none of the amulets and stuff we took back had any power left in them once I let loose a sub-station worth of spell-lightening.  Even his gem focus was a bit pathetic and it takes a lot to phase foci unless you actually ground the electricity through them.  I’d say that the knife was much more and much less than a phylactery. I’ll melt down all the metal and break the stones as a matter of precaution and send Wojciech and Lázló to look again at his tomb for anything that might be a phylactery; I don’t know if I believe in it but let’s be paranoid.”

“Damn right” said Orme “I’ll nip over and assist them; I’m a better chanter than either.”

 

The report came that nothing that could be any kind of phylactery or hidden life storage of any kind existed in the tomb; they used the summoning charm as well as going through the place with a fine tooth comb and a chanted form of power-revealing that would make to glow anything with any form of life or enchantment; they uncovered a recent colony of ants and that was it. Orme had dug out a book from Bellamy Manor on the kinds of undead which stated that the lich or thinking undead required constant sacrifice of life force or it would go torpid and return to a death-like state until it was fed by some means with life force, whether by deliberate sacrifice through the agency of a third person or by some pre-enchanted means.  There was no mention of any hidden life or phylactery and as the instructions for how to prepare your body for this form were fairly specific Amber felt sure that they were safe enough.

“Well it was a learning experience” she said to Orme. “And we have successfully scratched a lich.”

Orme poked her.

 well that's this odd little tale over, next up, Jermak in England.