The Collector's Tale - Part III of III

By Dracos Dragon.

The night air of Tideron smelt sweet and lavish; somewhere in the city below a celebration never before seen was going on. Kol-qu-han, Lich Collector, sat under a tree, watching the throngs moving towards the city centre and listening to the faint sounds of music. His two liches sat beside him; Phezzub, his first, a great mage from P'landra-summa and Amsereth, enemy of Sosaria and potential saviour of Balfas. Their faces were blank, their eyes closed. Qu-han had little use for them here.

"Good morning, Collector."

"Good evening, I think you will find, Lo-kathda." Qu-han turned his head and smiled at the figure sitting beside him.

"You are looking pleased with yourself, Collector."

"Oh, I am soaking in the moment of my power. It will pass, eventually. It is not often you are told you cannot die." Qu-han turned back to watch the revelers. "They aren't even aware of what is going to happen in the next few days. They might never know what is about to pass in blighted Balfas. I find that funny."

"Balfas is an evil place to most of them. It certainly isn't a pleasant place for those who visit." Lo-kathda frowned. "Even I have trouble there, with the seeing."

"So do I. It is a strong bane; an ancient magick that will not dissipate. It grows in you like a disease. I intend to spend as little time there as possible."

"A good idea." Lo-kathda paused. "You summoned me, Collector. What do you wish of me?"

"Dracos, the Fated of the Dying, will be arriving in this region tomorrow. I would prefer that he arrive before the others in Balfas so that he might meet the mage Helgraf. His arrival under less than ideal conditions will precipitate a number of events that will lead him to the Lich Amsereth's tower earlier than expected. This ensures that he, and he alone, is the solution of Balfas' ill, at least in regard to the bane."

"And my role?" Lo-kathda asked.

"Summon Dracos to you and transport him to Balfas. I cannot afford to intervene so early; the second prophecy is more exacting than that of the Strangers Prophecy." Qu-han turned and stared at Lo-kathda. "Will you do it?"

"In return you will allow me access to your world," Lo-kathda stated.

"No, no we won't. But you shall be allowed to meet with a delegation from the Ministry of Transit to discuss the matter further."

Lo-kathda frowned. "All right, I shall do as you ask."

"Thank you." Qu-han returned to his contemplation of the party far below. "I would love to join them, I really would."

Kol-qu-han dodged the firebolt and directed Phezzub to blanket the area in protective cantrips. Amsereth moved forward and removed the fire summoning charm. Far ahead Qu-han could see his foe passing into the antechamber.

"Polgark mene furnarth," Kol-qu-han whispered. The antechamber entrance closed and he went to touch it. "Time to spare, time to spare."

Kol-qu-han ignored the entreaties of the Collection Hall curator as he flew across the structure to the preparation room where the corpse of Dracos lay. The tattooed mage lay on the steel slab while mages probed and scanned his body.

"Is he clean? Can he be used immediately?" Qu-han asked.

"Yes, Kol, we think so." One of the mages returned the floor and approached him.

"Think? Think? I need to know for sure." Qu-han looked up at another mage. "You sir, what do you think."

"I think nothing, Kol-qu-han. I know this body is ready."

"Good enough. I leave for Sosaria immediately. Have the Lich Dracos join my other two in the potentiality annex."

Nicodemus' hut was bearing the brunt of the storm well, as it should. The charms were old enough to look after themselves and the great big hole in the roof where a body had recently fallen was of no concern. Nicodemus, however, was not in such a good state. He sat, cold and shivering in one corner, his mind still trying to work out the how and why of the Shadowlords' corruption of his soul. The blight was gone now, blessedly, but the fact it had occurred worried the arch-mage.

Knock knock.

Nicodemus looked up and through the door. A dark robed individual stood before it, flanked by two, and for a moment Nicodemus thought it was the Shadowlords themselves, three others. Nicodemus sighed and caused the door to open.

"Nicodemus," the figure said.

"Lok-qu-han... Shouldn't you be in Britain speaking with Nystul?" Nicodemus stood up, his worries forgotten. "Is something wrong?"

The Collector pulled down his cowl.

"'Tis a long story, Nicodemus. I am Kol now." Qu-han smiled weakly.

"I don't understand. The training to be Kol is long and arduous; you have hardly begun."

Qu-han began to speak and then obviously thought better of it.

For a few moments he stood awkwardly before finally speaking. "I suppose honesty is best here. I hail from the future. As we speak Lok-qu-han drinks in North Brittany. May my liches enter?"

Nicodemus nodded. The liches trailed into the room and stood against the wall. Nicodemus stared at the Dracos Lich for some time.

"He, he only just left here," Nicodemus said.

"Aye, and he, and this other," Kol-qu-han pointed to Amsereth, "are the reasons why I shall have to wipe your memory before I go."

Nicodemus point to the Lich Amsereth "The threat against us, I take it?"

"Aye."

"What do you wish, Qu-han?" Nicodemus asked.

"Information. I would get it myself but time is against me. I need to know where I can find the last remains of Minax."

The enemy races through the undergrowth, shifting to look as the plants around it. The liches follow, passing through obstacles. Kol-qu-han's face is contorted in concentration; as he controls his liches he focuses on the position of Mondain, seeing how much time he has.

The liches are in an open clearing where the bodies of a recently slain army lie. An altar, replete with statue, lies in the middle of them. The enemy is climbing the stairs, Qu-han's liches behind him. The enemy steps over the body of a dead soldier and reaches through the statue to grab something inside.

"Stop," Kol-qu-han says as he strides into the clearing.

"Too late, meddler. I am done." The enemy turns to stare at Qu-han. In his hand he clutches a piece of bone. "I have my keepsake now."

Qu-han bows his head and when he looks up his eyes glow

yellow. "You won't live to use it." Around him the dead begin to rise, except the body on the altar steps.

"Use my mercenaries against me, will you?" The enemy waves his hand and the dead fall to the ground, once again lifeless.

"Clever trick. I wasn't sure you were powerful enough for that," Qu-han says.

"Pays to know your enemy, Collector."

"Aye." Qu-han nods towards the Dracos Lich. The enemy turns to fire upon it, not noticing the body behind him rise to its feet.

"Aye," Qu-han repeats, "it pays to know that sometimes some people only see the grand and not the details." The zombie grabs the enemy's arm and wrenches it. Crying out to the night, the enemy disappears.

Kol-qu-han has been waiting at the Shrine of Minax for several hours, making sure that the enemy has been unable to reorganise its physical form. For the past two hours Qu-han has been feigning weakening strength. The enemy has redoubled its attacks, and finally, after much time, it has begun to break through. Qu-han pretends to be asleep and watches the enemy take human form before the shrine. Qu-han quietly rises to his feet, clutching the torque at his neck and nodding towards the Phezzub Lich. It moves forward and reaches for the enemy.

The enemy turns quickly and then turns back to its task. The Phezzub Lich's arm lies on the ground. The lich is motionless and Kol-qu-han makes it retrieve its arm and return to his side.

"That the best you can do, meddler?" the enemy asks. "Too tired for something grander?"

"No, I'm just waiting," Qu-han says.

"Wait too long and I shall be done." The enemy raises his hands. A pale form of blue appears between the shrine and the enemy.

"Oh, I don't think so."

"Too late, Collector. It is..." As the enemy tries to conclude an invisible winds strikes through both mages. The blue form is blown away and for a few seconds the enemy's form fades. Qu-han wrenches the torque from his neck and is swathed in ether.

"What?" cries the enemy.

"Mondain," the Kol says calmly. He walks towards the mage, the liches trailing behind him, only half-animated. "He has stripped the air of the very ether we as mages breath. All that remains before nature returns to itself are artifacts and relics." He stands before the enemy. "Your part in the prophecy cannot be completed. You are done."

The enemy looks at Qu-han for only a moment before lunging towards the Collector. "I'll tear you to shreds, Kol. You'll live not another moment."

The two writhe on the ground, the enemy ripping at Qu-han's skin. The Collector tries to lift the enemy from him, but the enemy's weight is too great for the Kol. The liches grope uselessly at the foe. Instead, Qu-han focuses upon the ether around him, causing it to leak into the enemy. The enemy looks into Qu-han's eyes.

"Escape is mine." The enemy vanishes.

Qu-han watches the Strangers leave Balfas. Phezzub's arm is now reattached and the lich seems to be in working order. He pushes away the platter of meat the priests have given him. Eating flesh is an anathema to his kind. He waits awhile, enough time to see an unblemished moon rise over the city, before he leaves as well.

The enemy sits on the river side of a world long since devoid of a race or people. Qu-han sits next to him. It is a while before they speak.

"It was necessary you know. You weren't aware of it, but had you succeeded in your plans the Outsiders would have become completely aware of us. We can't afford to be found just yet." Qu-han placed his hand on the enemy's shoulder.

"The Outsiders? The Class Sixes?"

"Well, the possible Class Sixes. They're more powerful than we Class Fives, that's certainly true. Whether they classify as a step up, magically, I don't know. All we know is that they don't seem to be aware of us, at least not as sentient beings, and the longer we hide, the more we can learn of them and prepare for them. They don't seem intelligent like we are, or if they are, it is in a whole different way. They are violent… More so than we, at least."

The enemy smiles. "But I can't see how Sosaria and Balfas were linked together in this prophecy aside from your lich."

"A small gem attached to one of the Strangers' swords. So small, in fact, that the sword's owner isn't even aware of it. It would have carried an aspect of your act to Balfas, and that would have caused a cascade effect when the bane was lifted. Originally you would have completed your charm just before the drain of ether; Minax's spirit would have briefly met with Mondain before appearing to dissipate. In fact she would have been in the jewel. She would have been swept out of Balfas into the void and found by an Outsider." Qu-han waves his arms. "Then it would have been doom galore for all us."

"One small artifact…" the enemy says.

"Aye." Qu-han nods. "Very much aye. It's all my fault, as well. Had Amsereth been left behind one of the Balfasian's would have stolen the sword…"

"Really?" The enemy looks down at his feet. "Why couldn't you just get rid of the jewel?"

"Prophecy. Binding bloody prophecy."

"Oh. Doesn't make it any better." The enemy looks up. "Still, least we survived it."

"Yep; 'twas prophesied that I would live."

"And I, obviously."

"Not quite," Qu-han speaks quietly. "Your fate was up in the air as soon as Mondain completed his task."

"Oh. Oh." The enemy looks at Kol-qu-han, "Thank you."

"'Tis all right."

The two sit facing the river for some time.

"What do you do now? Go home?" the enemy says.

"No. I am on 'extended leave'. The Order will call me if I am needed. Kol-mer-han was very specific that the Order would call me if I was needed. I think I shall be wandering for quite some time." Kol-qu-han nods back towards the ruined city. "I still have my liches."

"But otherwise you are alone?" the enemy says.

"Yes…"

The two continue to stare at the river.

"Meet here again in twenty days time?" the enemy says.

"Aye, I think so, I think so," Qu-han says.

The End