The Forgotten

Myval walked from the temple where he met the assassin. It was dark and surrounded by a dense forest with only a small path to come and go from. He had wondered briefly if the man he met took the same route or if he knew of other paths that were unknown to him. He guessed it was the latter as it is not often assassins would get cornered so easily, and he trusted this one to carry out the job he gave.

He found his mount tied up to a small tree where he left the large black stallion, its hooves stomping at the floor making dust appear around its feet. As the horse noticed Myval’s approach it stared back at him, its red eyes like daggers that would make many cower in fear. He was not afraid nor bothered by the beast, he let the mount act as it wished as long as it would do as commanded when with him.

Pulling himself up onto the straddle they trotted along the path that was full of obstacles. Overgrown bushes, trees and various rotted logs slowed them down. As the man rode he dwelled on the time he spent away and believed it had been a successful trip. With the death of a neighbouring prince, he had already met with many nobles and determined how many troops he could field. While the ten-thousand men ready for war did not make him outnumber the enemy, the fact he would take them by surprise and take many towns and cities before they could do anything gave him an advantage.

He grinned at the thought of taking over a neighbouring kingdom. He would increase his power, influence and standing army to further his kingdom.

Myval’s expression changed to seriousness as he sensed a change in his surroundings. He sensed something rapidly closing in. Being on his own so far away from any road or village, he thought it was the assassins betraying him and so called the blood to his hands. Reopening a wound on his hand he never let heal, the magic came to him almost instantly. Swirls of red light started to twirl around his hand and flow up his arms in spirals. His eyes started to glow, enhancing his vision he was able to spot subtle movements.

Looking over his surroundings, he saw a robed figure in front of him, though it was missing a few pieces. The Vesper was his creation, undead wraiths he could conjure up after sacrificing countless tortured souls. Myval hadn’t worked out the exact number of souls needed to make each creature, though he had found a connection between the amount of pain one suffered before the end and each creature’s strength.

So far, he had made three of them, making them roam the forest causing animals to turn on one another and the slow decay of life in the wildland. He had heard of the forgotten powers in the wild, yet no one could give any meaningful information. Paranoid about powers he could not control, he sought destruction and chaos within the woodland. It had gone well for several years yet this was the first time a Vesper had come to him and he certainly never expected one to come back injured.

Angrily, Myval said, “What happened, report.”

The creature replied though its words were thin whispers, “I was attacked deep in the forest, beyond the marshland. It was a white wolf, larger than I have ever seen before and fast.”

Looking calm, although the rage that stirred within him at the show as the magic around his hands grew brighter and more aggressive.

The wraith continued. “We exchanged a few hits though I soon held the advantage, but.”

“But what? Speak.” Commanded Myval.

“But a pack of wolves showed up and surrounded me. A group that I turned long ago, somehow they broke the hold I had on them.”

Myval wanted to kill the creature in front of him and would have if they weren’t so taxing to create. Many thought his obsession for torture and death was something he enjoyed, and well that was only partly true. It was the suffering and the pain he inflicted that he could use to fuel the magic used to create the Vesper.

He released his power into a nearby tree, slicing it from the base as a woodcutter would. His power cut through it like butter. The tree fell with a loud crash seconds later, then there was silence.

“Can you heal yourself?” He muttered, trying to temper his rage.

“I can over time, although it will drain me.”

“What do you need?”

“Fear.” the echoes of hundreds of men and women rippled through that single word.

Not affected by the deathly Vesper in front of him, Myval replied, “Do what you must then go back to the forest and alert your brothers. I want this threat dealt with. Return to me when you have completed your task.”

Without another word, the creature did as commanded. It turned, the movement quicker then the eye could track and another moment later it had already got fifty meters away, the Vesper’s arms perfectly still as it moved.

Myval watched as it left, unaffected by its complete desire to serve and kill. Anger now left him as he thought whether this white wolf would be a threat. As he dwelt on it for a few moments he realised that the movement of a few beasts of the wild did not hinder him and if he must he could always spare a few hours to kill any opposing force himself. The only part of the encounter that troubled him was that the Vesper was able to track his movements, something that he didn’t know was possible when he created them. He would have to find a way to counter such an ability.

Myval returned to his horse, also unaffected by the creature he pulled himself back onto the saddle and continued his journey back to the city.