Summoned A Hundred Years Too Late

We carry your blessing across the land and the breathing. Let it fester, let it proliferate. All warmth is a garden. Zabatrid willing, it will blight into bloom.

Creed of the Pale Bloom, unknown author.

”Are you certain?” Sera asked. ”If you contract a sickness, Louis stays in that cell.”

Alexandra clenched her fist. ”A whole village, Sera.”

”I know.”

”My friends were in that village.”

”I know that too.” Sera’s voice didn’t soften. ”It’s still a plant. It didn’t choose anything. The Yshant did.”

Alexandra opened her mouth and closed it.

”You want to hurt something,” Sera said. ”I understand. But that thing is a tool. Killing it doesn’t reach the hand that holds it. Not the Yshant. And certainly not Merinus.”

The silence stretched.

”So I do nothing.”

”You get Louis out. You get stronger.” Sera put a hand on her shoulder. “Kill the Yshant. The Perub falls with it.”

Alexandra looked down at her sickle. She exhaled through her nose.

”Fine.”

“Good.” She handed her another rock. “Keep practicing while we walk back to town. Try to cast both spells together. It’ll be tough, but that’s good training. And it would be safer if you could do that during the infiltration.”

Alexandra took the rock.

They reached Esmera as the sun was starting to dip. Alexandra had dropped the glamour too many times to count and failed to dispel the enchantment. Working with two mana threads was several steps above a simple spell. Yet, by the time the white walls came into view, she had gotten better at keeping her spells active while moving.

It was still far from perfect, or even satisfactory, but it was progress.

They used Louis’ hideout as an entry point, but didn’t stop there. Wearing hood and gloves, Alexandra blended into the thin crowd as she went down the main street through the harbor.

The attacks had left their marks. She could see it in the way people moved, fast, glancing left and right. She followed a few steps behind two men, close enough to hear.

“The Hands left for a reason, I tell you. We better dip while we still can.”

“And how? The last boat left yesterday.”

“Through the plains?”

“Then what? The steppes? It’s probably nothing important. Politics between the Wardens and the Hands.”

She turned to a side street, toward the eastern district, then she started climbing rocks on the sea side.

Sera was already there when she arrived, seated on a flat rock above the harbor with the Merinus estate spread out below her like a map.

“Was it enough?”

“No,” Alexandra said, closing her journal. “One Face Among Many is difficult to level.”

“It’ll happen naturally. Not a bad thing per se. Just a bit inconvenient now.”

Alexandra looked down at the harbor, then at their target.

The estate sat at the harbor’s edge, separated from the town by a stone wall twice her height. Inside it, four buildings arranged around a central courtyard. A main house wide enough to swallow three of Esmera’s townhouses, two smaller structures flanking it, and a long low building against the far wall that had the look of servant quarters. Guards moved the perimeter in pairs. Even from here she could count six, and those were just the ones moving.

“So that’s where they keep him?”

“Yes. In the basement under the courtyard. See the main entrance?”

She nodded.

“Trace the walls counter clockwise. About twenty minutes. You should spot the servants’ entrance.”

Alexandra squinted. It was hard to see from this distance, and that was with her perception having tripled since arriving in Laika. The setting sun in front of her didn’t help.

“Ah, there it is.”

This book was originally published on NovelFire. Check it out there for the real experience.

A large metallic door cut into the wall.

“I can’t see a guard.”

“He’s there. Behind the wall.”

They waited until someone approached. Three people carrying bags, likely from the market. They stopped before the door.

“They knocked,” Sera said. Alexandra wasn’t capable of seeing such details from their position.

A few seconds later, the door creaked open. One guard. A few seconds passed, then the servants went inside with their bags.

“Am I supposed to enter like that?”

Sera shook her head. “We’ll wait for a larger group.”

They watched until the light was gone.

The west district was quiet at this hour. Alexandra stood in front of Maret’s door, the cliff wall looming over her. She’d left Sera to watch over the Merinus estate. The plan was to act tomorrow, and she needed to complete all her preparations beforehand.

She knocked.

Seconds passed. The near-cavernous atmosphere in this part of town weighed on her.

She knocked again.

“Yes, yes, I’m coming. How impatient can you be?” The door slammed open. He looked her up and down. “I was starting to think you’d given up on the herbicides.”

Alexandra shrugged. “I’ve been busy.”

Maret let her into his lab.

“Busy? You’ve yet to eliminate Merinus. Don’t you want the antidote? Or did you find another way to pay for it? With the Hands gone, you are out of options.”

“As a matter of fact, I did.” She paused. “You wouldn’t happen to know something about the sickness of empathy?”

The alchemist rested his hands on the long table that covered most of the room. “Empathy? Interesting. Where did you catch such a wonder?”

“I’ll take this as a no. Where is the herbicide?”

Maret shook his head. “Ah, no need to be so hasty. Perhaps I can be of assistance.”

“Do you have a cure?”

“No.”

“Then?”

“It’s a detail which has its importance, but can be worked around. Do tell.”

Alexandra weighed her options. Since neither Sera nor the Hands knew how to cure sickness of empathy, it seemed like the alchemist was her only hope for now.

She exhaled. “I’m not telling you how I got it.”

“Shame.” Maret walked from the table to a cabinet taking up half the backwall. He started rummaging through drawers. “You see, sicknesses are a wonderful thing.”

Alexandra raised an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t say that.”

“And you’d be wrong. What a feat of magic they are. A self-sustaining curse.” He turned back to look at her. “Curses are already quite impressive spells. Even the simplest one takes several mana threads and many complex patterns. But sicknesses…” He smiled. “Sicknesses harness the mana of their very target to sustain themselves. A true parasitic spell. A disease.”

“What about sickness of mana? It doesn’t make sense.”

“To you, of course. But why construct a spell of that level without including a provision to allow for more sicknesses to stack on top of that of mana? It’s not that simple. Sicknesses would not be so fascinating if they were broken so easily.”

He put the flask on the table. It was the size of her fist, and filled with a translucent, thick liquid. “Herbicide,” he said. “Very potent. Not enough to kill an Yshant, as you might have expected. Though it might do some damage.”

Alexandra grabbed it. “So, what about the sickness?”

“Well,” he smiled. “My offer still stands. If you get rid of Merinus, I’ll find a way.”

“You said you didn’t have a cure.”

His smile widened. “I don’t have a cure, yet.” Then he laughed. “Where’s the other idiot? I have not seen him in a while.”

“Louis?”

“Who else?”

Alexandra said nothing for a moment. She set the flask down on the table.

”He’s been taken.”

Maret’s expression didn’t change. ”Taken.”

”By Merinus.”

The alchemist was quiet. He turned back to the cabinet, opened a drawer, and was still for a few seconds before he faced her again.

”How long?”

”Five days.”

”Five days.” He repeated. ”And you came here for herbicide.”

“I believe you know why.”

He scoffed. “If you think I’ll move against him, you’re mistaken. I don’t care what happens to this city.”

She leaned over the table. “But you care about Merinus.”

“How sweet it would be to see him fail so close to his goal. The work of a lifetime, reduced to nothing.” His smile vanished. “But alas, Louis was never going to succeed.” He caught her gaze. “He’s no hero.”

His smile returned. “But you’re not Louis.”

Alexandra straightened.

Maret picked up a flask from the drawer and turned it in his fingers. ”Louis is a good enough thief. Clever, occasionally. But he’s been trying to do good for this city for years.” He set the flask back down. Opened another drawer. ”He always needed one more piece. One more contact. One more month.” He looked at her. ”You’ve been in Esmera for how long?”

She didn’t answer.

”Little more than a week, perhaps. And tomorrow you walk into that estate.” He tilted his head. ”That’s something.”

”Desperation.”

”Conviction.” He turned back to the cabinet. ”There’s a difference, though I’ll grant you it’s a narrow one.”

“You’re wrong. I’m not doing it for Esmera.”

He shook his head. “I wouldn’t help you if that were the case.”

He was quiet for a moment, moving things aside. When he turned back, he was holding a small vial on two fingers. The liquid inside was red like wine.

He placed it on the table between them.

“What is it?”

“A last resort.” He withdrew his hand. “Drink it when the time comes.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Indeed,” he agreed.

She looked at it. ”I’m not drinking something I know nothing about.”

“Unfortunately,” he started, arms folded. “You’re more likely to drink it if I don’t tell you what’s inside.”

A pause.

Alexandra picked up the vial and held it to the light. Then she pocketed it.

”If I die, I’m haunting you.”

”I’d expect nothing less.” He pushed the herbicide toward her. ”Now go. I have better use for my time than to entertain you.”