Out with the old

Hemlock had finished her talk with Soldor and returned to the town she was in the process of purifying. It was long arduous work, but the spirits deserved to rest. This body was beginning to tire, it was not as old as the previous was when it needed replacement, but ever since two years after the Fall of Opra Dale, Hemlock had used this body burning the candle at both ends. A body could only take so much under normal circumstances, but giving her nature of existence the overuse of magic and overtaxing the body meant she was going to need a new vessel soon. And she might need to break a few rules…her own rules but rules nevertheless to get it.

Stepping through the portal, Hemlock stepped silently, paused and listened for the clink and clang of armoured intruders. At first she thought she heard nothing. The sound was far away, shouting voices, a woman barking orders followed by the heavy running foot falls of larger males clad in full plate armour. Hemlock closed her eyes and took a deep breath, and muttered a quick spell. When her eyes opened she was inside the mind of one of the many carrion birds perched along the roofs. Seeing several more of the armoured knights, but most strangely she saw who was leading this new group. A Half Angel. A woman with large black feathered wings sprouting from her shoulders, long white hair in a thick braid and lightly glowing purple eyes. Hemlock watched as the woman slowly scanned the burnt town.

“Necro-manc-er.” the woman said in a sing-song voice, sweetly musical but something in it made Hemlocks skin crawl and bones shiver. “Come out. Come out. Wherever you are.” the half angel went on. “I just…want…to…talk.” The woman hit the words harder as she spoke, on the ‘talk’ she swished a finger in the air carving a fiery circle, from its centre shot a streak of fire the size of an arrow that hit a nearby building detonating with a ground rumbling ‘fwoosh’.

“Nope…not there.” the half angel let out a small sigh before letting out a quick laugh. “Eenie…meenie…miney…” she chirped pointing to a ruined house each time “Mo!” she howled, firing off the same spell again, this time it was close. The shockwave from the blast blew her hair and rustled the feathers of her wings.

The moment of impact shunted Hemlock from the bird she was using to see without being seen, and she could feel the heat from the fire. “What is she…” Hemlock thought, trembling. She’d fought scores of these knights before today and none of them wielded even a portion of this power. With each of those blasts Hemlock felt this fallen angel's magic pull on the weave with the force of a stampeding bull.

The angel walked a few paces before firing off three more of the powerful blasts, the loud cries of pain of two of her men could be heard just after the blast. “Oops.” the angel laughed. “See what you made me do Necromancer, I don’t take my men getting hurt lightly.”

Hemlock drew in a breath before the cloud of smoke rolled over her, she placed a hand on her shadow and spoke a spell. A black tentacle of shadow reached from the angel's own shadow and seized her by one ankle, pulling her to the ground and attempting to throw her, but the angel shattered the spell like it was cast by a novice. “You’ll have to do far better than that Necroma…” before the angel could finish another solid shadow slammed sideways against her head. Knocking her back. “Oh…! OH!” the angel laughed with sadistic joy in her voice. “This will be FUN!”

Hemlock felt through The Weave connecting to the newly dead knights. She grabbed on to their bodies and forced them both to rise, feeling a lurch in her stomach. Freshly dead bodies were already a trick to force back up, and ones as mangled as these were felt like walking through knee deep mud. “Attack…attack…” she forced her will through them as they staggered and lurched towards their once leader. The two knights, all shattered limbs and scorched bodies lunged at the angel. The knights were flailing and thrashing but the angel managed to guard and deflect their attacks. “That is a dirty trick necromancer…Making me kill my own men twice!”

Hemlock felt a tug of magic, a pop pop and the connection to the bodies was gone. Not enough left to control. “To think…you killed so many of us.” the angel said, Hemlock could hear her walking. “I’d have thought you’d be stronger, and yet here we are….you’re cornered like a helpless little mouse.”

“Think…need to think…” Hemlock was racing through ideas, it was too bright out for most of her magic to be effective, and there was zero chance she could survive until dark, even if that were an option. “If I’m going to die…” Hemlock drew in her magic. “I’ll do it fighting.” She pushed herself to past the reaches of her upper limits, the shadows of the buildings began to bend and writhe. Constructs of umbra rose from shadow’s of the burnt out houses. The angel watched as a few rose. “This trick again? You disappoint me.” the shadow’s snapped forward like a snake strike, the angel batted them away. “Pathe…” she didn’t have a chance to finish before multiple tendrils blitzed her from the flanks, and one large tendril slammed between her shoulders and wings. Dragging her from the ground and throwing her like a discarded toy. The angel was sent toppling through the charcoal wall of a house, but before she was on the ground for even a moment another seized her by her waist, slamming her into the ground and then tossing her high up.

Hemlock breathed heavy, her body starting to feel still, her joints hurt to move but she kept up the assault. “Who did you say the mouse was…” Hemlock panted as she kept tossing and smashing the angel into the ground and through buildings. But eventually she was forced to stop. Hemlock had little left to give in the way of magic, and if she was going to survive this she’d need it.

Hemlock approached the open area, seeing the knights she’d brought had at some point tried to help their leader but only been caught in the crossfire, but ignored them walking over to the body of the angel. Sprawled in a grotesquely twisted position, eyes open wide in shock. Everything was in the right place but seeing a body take that much damage and still be whole was astounding.

With back breaking effort Hemlock managed to free the body and drag it to an open space. Despite feeling the angel barely weighed anything, the strain from using that much magic in a body this old nearly ended her and pulling the body with joints that refused to work nearly finished the job.

“I hope this works…” Hemlock said, taking out some chalk and making a circle, lined with symbols around the dead angel. She placed her hand together like a prayer, but laced her small and right fingers with the pointer and middle facing upwards her chin resting on her thumbs. She began to whisper an ancient incantation. Feeling a cold wash over her. Opening her eyes to a foggy ridden landscape, all things grey with a sky of black.

Laying before Hemlock was the body of the angel, but something strange. A large ghostly nail driven deep where the soul resided. Before Hemlock could reach for it a voice whispered over her shoulder. “Be wary, young necromancer.” Hemlock turned her head slightly to see the pail visage of the Reaper she’d seen many times before. “What is it?” she asked the Reaper.

The Reaper appeared suddenly on the opposite side of the angel. “A soul nail, a wicked invention of the foul Kelmoran.” the Reaper said, “Meant to keep death from being final. If the soul can not leave the soul can not rest.” she explained. “You will have to remove it if you plan to do what I believe you plan to do.” The Reaper explained. “But you must be quick. She will not remain dead for long.” the reaper gilded backwards watching. She was there for a soul one way or the other, and would wait to see which.

Hemlock grabbed the nail. It burned like it was fresh from the forge. As she began to pull it free a pair of hands clasped her wrists. “I’ve got you, Necromancer.” the Angel hissed as Hemlock pulled and pulled the angel fighting to keep the nail firmly in place, “You’ll die here.” the angel went to pull Hemlock in close but just as she did Hemlock, pulled the burning nail free. And everything went black as Hemlock fell back.

Eyes opening slowly burned by the late afternoon sun, and scavenger birds circling overhead Hemlock blinked. Her body ached but everything moved with a fluid motion, though it did take effort. She felt lighter than she had in years, all except her back. There was a weighty pull on her shoulders. She struggled to crawl over to a fallen knight taking his sword and using it as a mirror, looking back were a new pair of purple-blue eyes.

“It worked.” she said in disbelief, before laughing a scared sad but victorious laugh, after a short time she pulled herself together and staggered to a house with an intact basement to get some sleep.