The Beast of Ildenwood: 8. A Particularly Nasty Drain

 The Beast of Ildenwood

8. A Particularly Nasty Drain

Lahab watches the Wanderer’s eyelids flutter as Deletrear searches his mind, the weight of her head on her open palm, her elbow settled on the only empty space available on one of Deletrear’s tables. She has been sitting here, in Deletrear’s workshop, for almost two hours.

The Wanderer awoke perhaps half an hour after the mercenaries were sent away, and seemed almost disappointed that he had missed all the action. The mercenaries are now well on their way to the palace, where they will meet with the King of Samat himself. Not only are they trespassing on his kingdom, they have also attacked two Noble Guardians as well. This would not be easily overlooked, and the King was not an easy man when it came to the protection of his lands and people.

The mercenary’s threat against her forest is not easily overlooked, either. Every time she recalls his words, a fury runs through her veins. Lahab would rather die than see the forest she has taken care of all her life turned to ash. Her forest. Her father’s forest. She would protect it at all cost, for no cost could ever be too big for the protection of something so peaceful, so innocent.

As the Guardian of Miraya, Deletrear should be on his way with the mercenaries. The King will want to hear his account from the man himself. But Deletrear remains. He tells Lahab that it is because his work is not yet finished – that he must prepare to remove the drains on the Wanderer’s Strength, Energy, and Life Force. But Lahab believes there is another reason. The old man has been planning something ever since realizing she carries the Muna artifact. Despite the fact that she can trust Deletrear – he worked with her father long ago – there is something that does not sit well with her about his demeanor. He is unsettled, and that makes her unsettled.

Speaking of Muna…

She calls upon the artifact’s condition.

 

Item Condition: Muna

This item is in good condition. There are no changes to the item’s condition.

 

Nestled deep within her magical sack, locked away in a sturdy wooden chest, Muna has not been causing any trouble whatsoever. She feels a strange energy emanating from it at times, almost as though it is a living thing. This, too, unsettles her, but she tries not to contemplate it too much. Muna’s condition seems to be the same, and that is all that counts. For now.

There is a small gasp, and Lahab watches as the Wanderer’s eyes flutter open. Deletrear frowns and steps back, shaking his head. “The memory block is disintegrating,” he reports, “but it is being particularly stubborn. Nevertheless, over the coming weeks, you shall remember everything that you once knew. Everything you remember should also appear in your book.”

The Wanderer of Realms nods in understanding, though his brow is furrowed. Lahab does not blame him. Even for them, this is a challenging situation. She can only imagine how lost he must feel, with nothing to anchor him, not even the most basic knowledge of the world. Now that his memory block has been taken care of, the Wanderer will undoubtedly see his memory restored. He can return to his life – whatever it had been before she met him - and that, at least, must be comfort enough.

“The good news is that it has succeeded. We may move on to the drains on your Strength, Energy, and Life Force now,” Deletrear says. He motions for the Wanderer to take a seat on one of the tall wooden stools scattered around the workshop – most playing host to piles of leather-bound volumes. When the Wanderer takes a seat, Deletrear approaches once more, pressing his fingers to the young man’s head.

A deep silence stretches out as the aged Guardian searches the Wanderer. Lahab wonders what Deletrear sees – in the Wanderer’s mind, in hers, and in everyone else’s he has looked into with his Invisible Eye. His attribute is most certainly useful in a variety of different ways, and she finds it is only right that a man with such power chose to dedicate his life to the service and protection of his community. What else could he possibly have done with it, anyway?

“Yes, these drains will not be too simple, either,” Deletrear murmurs, breaking the silence. “I’d certainly like to meet the spellcaster responsible.”

“So would I,” the Wanderer replies darkly.

Deletrear smiles but does not reply. He is preparing himself, shifting from foot to foot, almost as though trying to find a comfortable position. “I can remove the Energy drain completely,” he tells his patient. “And, if this drain conforms to what I know of Mental Drains, that should also take care of your Strength drain. But it will feel strange. Do not pull away from me. Breaking contact with such a complex drain...” He trails off, but the warning in his tone is clear.

“Right. I’ll do my best.”

A sharp gasp. The Wanderer flinches as Deletrear begins, but the spellcaster hardly notices, his hands planted firmly on the young man’s head, eyes closed in concentration. His wrinkled face grows still, and the Wanderer freezes, his hands clenching the sides of the stool upon which he sits.

Does it hurt?

Almost as a response to her question, a loud exclamation of pain escapes the Wanderer’s lips. His eyes are closed tight, his teeth gritted together to prevent more sounds from hurling themselves out of his throat. His knuckles have grown white, and Lahab does not envy him his position.

Moments later, with what seems like one final push of effort from Deletrear’s part – accompanied by a very loud and startling growl-yell from his patient – everything comes to an end. Deletrear steps back, and the Wanderer slumps in relief. His forehead is beaded with sweat, and his hands let go of the stool.

“Well, that didn’t go according to plan,” Deletrear says, a frown set deep within his face.

“You were unable to remove it?” Lahab asks, surprised.

“My dear, what do you take me for?” Deletrear replies, crossing his arms. “No, the Energy drain has been removed. But I must admit, I grow increasingly concerned. Drains should not be quite so painful – or so difficult – for me to remove.”

“Maybe you’re not as powerful as you think you are,” the Wanderer offers, rubbing his brow. “My head is killing me.”

Deletrear snorts. “I will have you know, I am widely recognized for my abilities. Removing blocks and drains – even those made by the most ingenious of spellcasters – is usually quite the simple matter for me. Yours, on the other hand...” He shakes his head, stroking his beard as Lahab has noticed he does when he is seriously considering something. “Yours is something entirely different. It was as though the drain was rooted into your very mind, wrapped around it, tangled inside it. Almost as if it has grown since being cast, as though it has a mind of its own... I wonder if the Life Force drain functions similarly...”

Yes, Lahab certainly doesn’t envy the Wanderer his position.

“In any case, we should let you rest before we attempt to remove the Life Force drain,” Deletrear continues. “Your reaction to the Energy drain removal was… unexpected. There should not be any pain.”

“I don’t want to wait,” the Wanderer tells him. “Do it. The sooner the better.”

Deletrear considers this for a moment. Lahab suspects he is checking the Wanderer’s condition. She can’t help but side with the Wanderer in this case. The drain has to be removed one way or the other. Waiting simply puts the man in further danger of irreparable damage – if it hasn’t been done already. Best removed now, rather than later.

“Well, I suppose we can get to it, then,” Deletrear says. “Life Force drains are very rare, my friend, and extremely difficult to cast. I expect this one will be generally harder than the Energy drain, and much more malevolent. I would imagine that might translate to an even more painful experience for you. You have been warned.” The Wanderer frowns but says nothing, so Deletrear steps forward and places his hands once again on the young man’s head.

The process is repeated, only this time it is much more unsettling. There is lots of yelling from the poor Wanderer, and a great deal of writhing under the old man’s surprisingly firm grip. And there is blood. Neither the Wanderer nor Deletrear notice the liquid oozing out of the young man’s ears, his nose, but Lahab sees it, and it turns her stomach. She has never been much good with blood.

Then, it ends, quite suddenly, quite abruptly, with Deletrear stumbling back rigidly as though struck by some invisible force. He is panting, a sheen of sweat upon his brow, and the Wanderer all but falls off the stool. Both of them are red-faced and physically exhausted.

“Is it done?” he demands, panting heavily, leaning on a nearby table for support. He notices the blood for the first time, and wipes under his nose with the back of his hand, which only has the effect of smearing it. Lahab looks away.

Deletrear shakes his head, rubbing his temples. “Never in my life have I experienced such resistance,” he says, the surprise evident in his voice. “It clings to you like a parasite with a life of its own. I could not remove all of it, but I managed to rid you of most of the drain.”

Lahab consults her Book Intrusion skill, looking into the Wanderer’s condition.

 

Wanderer’s Curse
Classification:	???	Caster:	???
Curse Effects
Strength:	No effect	Energy:	No effect
Life Force:	(-1) per day	Other:	None

 

“It is much improved,” Lahab notes, nodding at the Wanderer. “Consult your book and you shall see. Whatever Deletrear has done, it has also removed the drain on your Strength. You no longer have an Energy drain, and the Amnesia effect has been removed. But your Life Force...”

“Yes,” Deletrear says gravely, stroking his beard. “It is still being drained. Not at the same pace, of course, and most of the drain has been removed, but I fear, with your condition being what it is, trying to remove the rest of it by force – as it were – would simply result in grave injury to your body and mind.”

The Wanderer sighs, but nods, now distracted by the blood leaking from his ears. It has stopped, but the look of concern on his face is telling: there will be no more attempt at removing the final drain. At least not for now. “Thank you for all that you have done,” he says to Deletrear. “Already you have helped me a great deal.”

“Your days are still numbered,” Deletrear points out dejectedly. He is not used to failing.

“Perhaps,” the Wanderer says. “But at the very least, there are more of them than there were only an hour ago, and that is certainly something to celebrate. I will do my best to remember the spellcaster who did this to me and try to track them down. They might hold the key to removing what is left of this drain.”

“A sound plan,” Deletrear agrees. No doubt he, too, would like to track down this mystery spellcaster. Such power is not easily found; were they from this region, Lahab and Deletrear would have definitely heard of them. Perhaps they hail from another region, one the two of them are less familiar with. Perhaps the spellcaster they seek is in enermy lands, or has come with the army that sought to steal Muna from its earthly slumber.

“Will the mercenaries return?” the Wanderer asks suddenly. “Will they come after Lahab again?”

“Most certainly,” Deletrear says grimly. "Not the ones we've caught, but they'll send others. You must take great caution on your travels, my young Guardian, for you may find yourself chased relentlessly."

Lahab shrugs. “I did not expect this to be easy,” she tells them. “I will deliver the artifact to the only place worthy of it, and I will not rest until I see it out of reach of those who would do harm with such a powerful item.”

“I still don’t understand,” the Wanderer says. Blood has dried against the sides of his head and under his nose, around his lips. “What is this artifact? Why do they want it so badly? Where are you trying to take it?”

Lahab meets the old spellcaster’s eyes, and he shrugs, almost as if to tell her that it’s up to her what she decides to tell this mysterious Wanderer of Realms. She doesn’t know why, but she feels the Wanderer is someone to be trusted. She hopes her intuition guides her true. But even then, she must take caution.

“I will explain as much as I can,” she tells the Wanderer, “but I must make haste. Deletrear is correct. There will be more in pursuit – stronger ones not so easily defeated. I must continue my journey. If you wish to come with me, you are most welcome.” In fact, she hopes he will. Lahab has a strong sense that the Wanderer is going to be more useful than she knows.

“I have nowhere else to go,” he says, shrugging. “If you’ll let me, I’d be happy to tag along. That is, if you don’t mind someone completely clueless accompanying you on such an important journey.”

She nods. To be frank, she will feel better if he is somewhere she can keep an eye on him. Despite what she has come to know of him, he is still a mystery, and she feels somehow that stumbling upon the Wanderer so soon after obtaining the artifact was no mere coincidence. “And Deletrear,” she says, turning to the old spellcaster. “You must follow the mercenaries to the palace. Warn the king.”

“Worry not, my dear,” Deletrear replies. “The Guardians shall be warned, and an urgent meeting convened. You shall have all of their support.”

"Very well," she says, but an ominous feeling sweeps over her. Something she has not been able to put into coherent thought until now. Something about how the artifact was found in the first place. 

With an awful wave of dread, she realizes the Guardians are not to be trusted.