A Forest of Secrets

Chapter 35

 Laurentius managed to sign himself in to be present during the autopsy, which was performed in the College of Magi by Onturian Knight medics and mage healers that very night. He barely touched his meal the next day, when he managed to swing by the inn to continue with the breakout preparations. 

"And what was it?" Jo whispered. Wyn, Laurentius and her were sharing the smallest table in the place, their heads almost touched as they spoke.

The inn was loud and filled to the brim with hungry scholars; there was even a bard playing a curious instrument that mimicked a bird's song. But they didn't want to risk being heard, any of the patrons could be an Onturian Knight in disguise: after the market incident, none could toss a rock without hitting one of them, standing in every corner, patrolling elbow to elbow with the City Guard. Fear and gloominess filled the whole city, the children weren't even allowed to play outside. All that in one evening.

"It was a lemure, like Wyn suspected," he whispered back. Jo must have made a face without noticing, because Laurentius elaborated, "an unintentional reanimated corpse, sort of speak. Like a revenant, but dumber. Lingering magic from a battlefield usually does the trick, trapping any lingering spirits left behind after being abruptly separated from their bodies, corrupted by fear and tainted blood, but, in a city? People die all the time here in Ontur, but most of the time their deaths don't qualify as brutal, ridiculous at times? Yes. Indecorous? Definitely yes," he chuckled. Jo rolled her eyes, "but their untimely deaths don't corrupt their spirits to the point of-- never mind. I digress," the mage drank a swig of dark ale so thick it almost counted as food. Some sure counted it as such."We drained the corrupting magic lingering in the corpse, as one does in these cases," he rubbed his temples, closing his eyes. "It was a wisp. A dying wisp, corrupted," he blurted.

"Creators," Jo gasped. Without access to the tree, they had nowhere to go and be reborn. They'd been expecting consequences, but not so soon. Bad things never took their time, did they? Jo took a swig of ale, she was suddenly craving something stronger. A whole bottle of it. Wyn squirmed in her seat, slurping her chicken broth.

"I know," the mage took another swig, longer this time, draining his mug completely. "And it will happen more often, in the future. The wisps can't enter the forest anymore, they can't be renewed inside the Core Sylvam," he refilled his mug, then drank some more. His food remained untouched. "So they wander, confused, and get into the first hosts they can find. That man had been dead for a couple of minutes. Heart attack," he took another drink, then another right after. "The Onturians don't believe it was a wisp, though, they have no idea the Core Silvam is real. They think a necromancer did it. They're looking for them at the College of Magi, as we speak. If they find nothing, they'll start harassing every mage in the city, until they find something incriminatory, anything. I know how these things go. They just need to make people believe things are under control, they'll-- Creators. This could get out of hand, very quickly," he finished his second mug. Jo grabbed his wrist, preventing him from getting a third.

"We need you sober, Laurentius, and fed. We need to get Alaric out of there, and you're the expert," she pursed her lips. That went for her as well. Her mug would have to remain untouched. She switched to her water glass.

"Speaking of which: they're moving the initiation ritual to tomorrow morning," he shut his eyes hard, as if cowering from a punch. Jo almost choked on her water, fighting not to show emotion. They were three friends having lunch, nothing more. No important news was being shared. "I overheard Laverna, they think they don't have enough knights to-- By Ontur's grace, they think they'll soon need to contain us all or something. This won't bid well for Alaric."

"All the more reason to keep you sober, you selfish prick," she took a deep breath. "Eat, now. Both of you," Wyn attacked a chicken drumstick, averting her eyes from Jo. "Then we're going upstairs to finish our planning: we're breaking Alaric out tonight," she took an angry bite of the chicken in front of her: it tasted like goo. Her stomach complained, she didn't want to eat anything. She wanted to yell, to break things, she needed to let her frustration out. She did her best to keep a mask of poise, eating without really tasting it. She needed her strength for that night. She'd free Alaric or die trying. Laurentius and Wyn ate quietly, eyeing Jo with apprehension between bites. Perhaps she wasn't as good at hiding her emotions as she thought.