A Soldier's Life - 413 - Unexpected Complications (edited 6-29-25)

Chapter 413: Unexpected Complications

Exhausted young men trudged toward the Citadel alongside us, their steps heavy from training and upkeep of the stronghold. Their faces reflected a wide range of origins and lands, though nearly all were human. I spotted three elves among them, one of them a woman with silver-threaded braids and a wary expression.

We moved with the flow of bodies through the wide corridor, passing others heading in the opposite direction, their evening meal finished. These were the elder members of the order: grizzled, silent figures with hardened eyes and the bearing of those who had seen too much horror.

The initiates ahead of us were louder, talkative as they entered the great hall and began to line up. Dozens of thick oak tables stretched across the vast chamber, the air now filled with the clatter of dishware and echoing voices. Long benches scraped noisily against the stone floor as people claimed their spots. Being new, we hung back near the entrance, watching. No one greeted us. No one told us what to do. The system was clearly understood by everyone else. We were new here and not part of their number yet.

Behind the buffet tables, cooks moved with brisk efficiency—mostly older women and a few children—replacing emptied trays with fresh platters and cauldrons of food. Their work was silent, practiced, and precise.

As the flow of initiates slowed, I took a quick count. Roughly two hundred. I had no sense of whether that was considered a lot or a few. For all I knew, the training lasted decades, and this was just a small portion of those to be served.

“I don’t see the Hierophant,” I told my companions as we all watched the press of people. At least no one looked to be in charge among the throng of people eating. I mainly caught Elvish phrases in the air, but there was a mixture of languages I did not recognize. The line thinned, and I motioned my companions forward. I felt a little out of place being the only one in armor, besides a pair of gray-haired guards who ate at the table together. My companions finally attracted the eyes of the initiates as they got food, probably just now realizing we were new.

I didn’t get any food but sat with my companions at an empty table. “It stinks in here,” Evie said while breaking apart her lumpy potatoes. They had left the skins on when they mashed them, but it looked like some cheese and cream had been added to smooth them.

“I don’t think there are any baths or showers,” Blaze said, looking directly at me. “Maybe we should leave?” He cracked a grin.

I looked at Evie. “I know, soldiers stink. When I joined Castile’s company, it made me nauseous having to smell them all the time. The good news is, after a while, you don’t even notice anymore,” I said in rebuke. Blaze elbowed Benito, but he missed the comment. Blaze was left to defend the company's honor on his own. I just said, “Remember when Mateo was used as an asswipe for an ogre?”

“Yes, Evie, soldiers’ find a way to stink worse than most men.” Blaze and I laughed together, ending our playful verbal joust. We ate in silence until Solvar came into the dining hall and walked directly to our table, still in his captain’s armor. All the initiates’ eyes followed him. He addressed us formally. “Hierophant Virethane is ready to receive you.”

“All of us?” I asked, standing.

“Yes. You can remain for your daughter’s testing after,” the captain replied. He waited until we were all ready, then followed him through an archway to the right of the kitchens. The citadel was surprisingly clean as we walked down a long corridor to large doors hung on polished silver hinges. The doors swung smoothly open to reveal a wide ascending staircase beyond, lit by dozens of tiny glowstones on each step. There were also runes carved into each step, which I noticed as we climbed behind the captain.

When we reached the landing, he spoke without ceremony. “Follow closely. Touch nothing. No detours. No questions.” Soft glowstones hovered near the ceiling, casting pale light. The air seemed to chill as we walked. Our steps echoed through the stone passage lined with dozens of weapons mounted on the walls. Some of the weapons were clearly runic in nature, but I didn’t see any that shone like dungeon-forged weapons.

Salvor slowed and let us look at the massive paintings along the walls. The murals depicted desperate battles against legions of the dead—skeletal war hosts surging across charred plains, spectral cavalry clashing with elves in silvery plate armor beneath blood-red skies, and pyres burning high, giving the dead a final rest.

At the center of one mural, a lone figure, tall and unbowed, stood wreathed in blinding light—her form haloed in fire-bright radiance. Her robes were etched in golden runes, and in her outstretched hand, she held a staff crowned with a blue flame, its light seeming to hold back the undead before her. Around her feet, armored warriors with the sigil of the Death Hunters clearly on their breast defended her. The faces of the Hunters were detailed enough that they must be representations of real men. The undead surged toward them from every side—skeletons in rusted armor, ghouls with decaying flesh, wraiths with screaming maws, skeletal beasts, and necromancers cloaked in shadow at the back of the undead host.

I knew what this was. This was a reality check for those wishing to join the Death Hunters. A test to see if they would be capable of facing these horrors in the flesh, bone, or shadow. Only Lesna in our group appeared tentative after being exposed to the graphic art. There was a final door at the end of the corridor, and we climbed a spiraling staircase up one of the towers that ended in a large door. Without knocking, Solvar opened the door and stood aside for us to enter.

The chamber beyond was vast and domed, its ceiling a perfect curve of seamless stone that seemed to kill all echoes. Narrow windows lined the walls at intervals, tall and thin, revealing the ink-black night beyond. Shelves encircled the room, each one carefully arranged with a mix of tomes and relics: sealed jars filled, skulls of beasts both known and unknown to me, ornate scroll cases, and crystals of every hue. A delicate tea set sat between two heavy bookends—its presence oddly domestic. There were other objects, stranger still, but I had no time to examine them; our attention was already being drawn to the center of the room.

“Hierophant Elyssara Virethane, Commander of Veilmark,” the guard captain introduced. Solvar reentered, shutting the door behind him. “The new recruits,” he indicated to us with minimal formality.

A large, sturdy desk dominated the room’s center, made of dark-stained oak and worn edges from long use. At first glance, this desk could have belonged to any scholar or high official: neatly stacked correspondence sealed with wax, a brass inkstand beside a cluster of black-feather quills, and a stack of papers weighed down with polished white river stone.

Elyssara wore layered robes of pale gray and black, trimmed with silver embroidery. Her silvery-white hair was deceptive, as her elvish features made her appear no older than I. Her faintly glowing blue eyes observed our group. She lacked the ethereal, ageless beauty most elvish women possessed. There was definitely some spell behind that glow in her eyes. Her voice broke the silence. “Rarely do we have such a large, veteran group join us.” She stood and stepped in front of us, studying Lesna and Evie more intently. “We do not like to waste resources on training new Hunters, so I speak with recruits before we take your information and test your skills.”

“I don’t understand. We are not Death Hunters yet?” Benito asked.

Elyssara gave a half-smile. “No. We haven't even logged your names in the registry. It takes a certain mindset to join us. Whatever brought you to our doorstep is inconsequential if you lack the courage to hunt our quarry. There are still a number of positions to support our members within Veilmark.”

My mind was finally catching up to the stimulus around us. “Virethane is not an Elvish name,” was all I could think to say.

The elf woman smiled knowingly. “No, it is not. It is the name I took when I became a necromancer. My family did not support my—path.”

Evie stirred and met the woman’s eyes. Elyssara smiled at her, with bright, perfect white teeth, and Evie retreated behind me. “We have not been discouraged from our path. We know what to expect, and we know we can leave at any time of our choosing.”

The Hierophant looked amused. “You know what to expect? Maybe you've ended a few skeletons, zombies, or ghouls in your travels, but have you faced a vampyre that can corrupt your mind just by making eye contact? Hunted a revenant five times stronger than a man, intent on revenge? Endured the scream of a banshee? Fought a shadow wraith that mundane weapons cannot harm? Or faced a lich with magic more powerful than any living mage?”

“Three of those, I think,” Blaze responded humbly, but I knew better. “Although the banshee was miles away when it screamed, and Castile had us retreat.”

“Oh?” Elyssara said, amused. “Then we can put you right to work!”

“We are here to be trained in how to fight the undead and watch over Evie.” I placed my hand on the girl’s shoulder protectively.

“Yes, the child necromancer,” the woman said doubtfully. “This is how things will proceed if you are still interested in joining us. You will meet with the Librarian and answer his questions, and provide him with the names of anyone you want to be notified in case of your death. From there, Captain Solvar will evaluate your combat skills. For those of you with magic, Spellwarden Torric will administer a test. After your assessment, you must complete the seven indoctrination classes that will teach you about our order and how to identify and combat the various undead creatures threatening the world.”

The elf studied us, and seeing that none of this dissuaded us, she continued. “Then you will be promoted to a Death Hunter and given a role in the order.”

“Can’t wait,” Blaze muttered.

“I realize many come here with uncertainty, that is not us,” I said resolutely.

Her eyes slipped back to Evie, her eyes no longer emitting a glow. “Very well. You can go to the bottom of the stairs. Captain Solvar will be waiting for you. As for our young necromancer, she can remain with her father.” Blaze, Benito, and Lesna left, trying to take in everything among the shelves. I noticed two wall maps of the entire planet that I wouldn’t mind studying in more detail.

In a flurry of robes, Elyssara walked to a shelf and opened a bone box, removing a small tablet that I recognized. Renna had one when I first met her. It was a simple assessment tablet for affinities. There were three circles, each with seven gems. When you channeled aether into it, all your affinities lit up. The brighter the light, the stronger the affinity. It was not as accurate as a tablet assessment.

But it did have one additional function. It could tell you which affinities you had already inscribed spell forms for. That was how I learned I had already inscribed my convergence spell form. She placed the wooden board in Evie’s hands and asked, “Can she manipulate aether?” Her tone carried a lot of doubt.

I nodded encouragingly to Evie, and with trembling hands, she activated the tablet. My eyes remained fixed on Elyssara as the gems lit up, revealing Evie's affinities. The strongest gem pulsed, indicating she had already learned a spell form. Two others pulsed more faintly—convergence and space. The Hierophant’s jaw loosened as she stayed transfixed on the reader, likely trying to figure out how someone so young had an awakened core and such powerful affinities.

“So, you train her then?” I said, breaking Elyssara’s focus.

“No. I cannot,” she replied, and a cold chill ran down my spine. The alternative was that they might have to kill Evie, and I was already thinking about how we would get out of here. “She is likely stronger than I, with more potential. What—what spell form have you already learned, child?”

I sensed danger in what I knew would be Evie’s response. If they knew she could already raise powerful undead, they might have to contain her. I interrupted, “If you cannot train her, then we are leaving.” I stood protectively in front of Evie and handed the reader back.

She looked at us with compassion. “I said I cannot train her. Only the Master Necromancers of the Death Sentinels can help her wrestle control. They must teach her. Necromancy is not like other magics. It will corrupt the entire body and mind over time. There are defenses they can give the girl to mitigate the effects.”

“I thought the Sentinels only guarded the Isle of the Dead,” I replied, unnerved.

“They do—a supply ship from the Sentinel’s Sanctuary docks in Nausis to load supplies once a year. She can board it—she must board it. The sooner she gets there, the better she'll be able to handle the taint.” Evie was in shock as we spoke, discussing her fate. It was not going as I had said it would.

“And when is the next ship due?” I asked resignedly.

“Two to four months.” The Hierophant replied. “It visits this continent once a year and the other two once a year as well.”

“Then we will be on that ship,” I said, squeezing Evie’s shoulder, and the tension of uncertainty released from her. I was not going to abandon her now.

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