Tales of the Company of the Spear (fiction)

Fascinating I like this Jeremiah, I still support you.

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Ah, such an inviting thought provoking tale. Thank you kind author.

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I’m going to throw rocks at my own roof, but I think it would be time to leave Jeremiah’s story aside and go back to the main story. So n9s leave wanting to know more and you reassure yourself that people will continue reading, not only for your wonderful narrative but for knowing later what happened to Jeremiah.

I know, now many of you will hate me. I’m hating myself.

I’m your no1 fan
…great work…when your book is done let me know… I will buy it for sure

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I’m sorry @Aragon, but “I’mmm” the number 1 fan.

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Okay, @Zero2Hero and @Aragon - you will have to fight it out - off to the battlefield… lol

tumblr_m6a268xsep1r7k0sgo1_500

Actually my dog is my #1 fan, but y’all can arm-wrestle for #2.

And I kind of need to keep going with Jeremiah’s story for a bit before I get back to the main narrative, because I’m using it to set up what comes next.

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Whaaaa???

20 yeah yeahs.

I think Jeremiah’s backstory is as important as any members of the Company of the Spear as it is said he’s been there a long time as far as the Captain could remember, and I am interested to know how Jeremiah went from a troubled youth that dabbled the dark arts to a skeletal revenant no longer able to speak and can only gesture that we see in the present day. Very exciting!

As this is, the tales of the entire company, I foresee that we will also get to the backstories of Drumnadrochit, Zila & Akwedas (How they met and joined the company), and even back to Siara (leading up to how she managed to run into Drumnadrochit in that tavern).

Much more interesting story board than the otherwise monotonous fighting Titan, kill Titan (or escape) and move onto the next Titan that the game presented players with.

Keep up the great work and look forward to chat about it.

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Jeremiah’s Tale, part 4

A week later:

Jeremiah’s footsteps echoed through the cavernous chamber. Dim light shone from windows high above, at the base of the enormous dome that loomed far overhead. He eyed the shadows around the edges of the massive circular room, but could see nothing moving, even with mana-enhanced sight. The air was chill and absolutely still.

And yet, the marble floor was free of dust or debris, despite the centuries that had passed since the building had been abandoned.

The young man knew to be wary. He had, after all, just spent a week traveling through the Deadlands of central Windemer, making his way to their very center where the old, long-deserted capital city lay. He’d managed to avoid most of the many hazards that gave the Deadlands their name, and had dealt with the rest easily enough. Yet he suspected that the greatest dangers lay here, in the ruins around him.

Jeremiah had heard vague legends about this place. None of those legends had bothered to include a detailed description of the building’s layout, so he was uncertain of which way to go. The item that he sought could be hidden anywhere within.

Suddenly a voice boomed, “Who dares trespass in my domain?” It echoed around the room and off the dome above, so that Jeremiah had no hope of telling from which direction it came. The voice was cultured, commanding, and quite feminine.

“A seeker after knowledge,” Jeremiah answered. “Isn’t that what this place is for?”

Echoing laughter filled the great hall in response. Jeremiah peered into the darkness, seeking the source of the voice. His eyes could see nothing, but with his magical sight he could detect a faint disturbance in the ambient mana.

“It has been long since one of those crossed the threshold of this hall,” the voice said. “A thief is more likely, come to plunder the famed riches of the Silver Citadel. Isn’t that so?”

“Well, to be honest, there is also one item that I seek,” Jeremiah admitted. “Just that, and the knowledge to use it. For the rest I care nothing.”

“Is that so? One item, and you would leave behind the remainder of the greatest collection of magical artifacts ever collected?” The unseen woman gave a low chuckle. “I ought to kill you where you stand, thief.”

“You could try,” Jeremiah said. “You might even succeed. But at what cost? I am not without defenses. The battle could go to either of us. But I suspect that the victor would be so greatly wounded, and so drained of power, that either of us would be easy pickings for the other creatures that fill this city.”

“Oh, indeed?” The voice sounded amused.

“Yes. I felt them on my way in. Other things, waiting in the darkness. You’re strong, clearly strong enough to keep them at bay. But they would gladly consume you, given the chance. Isn’t that so, vampire?” He fixed his eyes on the wavering form that he could see in the mana. “Yes, I do see you, and I know what you are.”

“Oh, you are entertaining,” the voice crooned. “It might even be worth it to let you live. I’ve not had so enjoyable a conversation in centuries.”

She came out of the shadows then, walking slowly towards Jeremiah. She was slender, sharp-featured with high cheekbones, and with thick black hair that tumbled past her waist and set off her smooth alabaster skin. She wore a thin white gown that clung to her form, revealing more than it hid. Her eyes were large and dark and completely dead.

Jeremiah bowed. “My lady.”

“Courteous, too,” the woman crooned. “I feared that might have gone out of the world.” She stared at him, smiling softly. “It’s a good trick, you know.”

Jeremiah raised an eyebrow, and she laughed. “The disguise. Wrapping yourself in a cloak of dark mana so that you appear to be undead yourself. No doubt it fooled the lesser dead who crossed your path. Well done, thief.”

Jeremiah shrugged. “It didn’t fool you.”

“Little does,” the woman said. “I was a master of the Citadel for decades. And since the fall of Windemer I have had all the resources of the Citadel at my sole disposal. All the knowledge of the ancients is mine.”

“You hardly look old enough to have been a master for decades.”

She smiled back at Jeremiah. “Who wants to be old for all eternity? I have my vanity, after all. I had been using rejuvenating spells for many years, but I could tell that they would not be effective forever. I knew that one day they would fail, catastrophically. So before I became a vampire I used them one last time, so that I appear as I was at the age of thirty. It’s when I was most beautiful. So I was often told.”

“Beautiful but dead. Is it truly worth the price?”

“I have no regrets, mortal.”

“None?”

“When you are old and weak and weary of the world, it may not seem like such a high price to pay. Should you live long enough to find out.” She gave him a calculating stare. “Or perhaps you would like to find out now? I sense power in you, young mortal. It would be a shame to let it go to waste. You could join with me, and together we could rule the Deadlands. All would bow before us.”

Jeremiah laughed and shook his head. “I do not seek that kind of power. And I certainly do not care for the price. No, as I said, I came here for one item only. Once I have it I will go.”

“Indeed? And what item would that be?”

“A small orb. Small enough to fit in the palm of my hand. I’m told it’s blue, but glows with a purplish light.”

The vampire’s face lit up with delight. “A mind orb! Well, aren’t you the ambitious one. And what is it you plan to do with it?”

“I need to change someone’s mind.”

“Oh, mortal, I like you. Such reckless ambition! With a mind orb you could bend an entire province to your will!”

Jeremiah shook his head. “That’s not my plan. I need to control one person. There’s a certain tyrant who I wish to be… less tyrannical. Once that is done, I am through with it.”

“Oh, I see,” the vampire crooned. “You seek to use the dark arts to accomplish good, do you?”

He shrugged. “It’s very possible. Dark magic is merely a tool. What one does with it is what matters.”

The vampire chuckled. “So you believe, mortal. But it is harder than you know. Tell me, have you ever heard the story of Lord Stefan the Black?”

“Stefan the Black… Wasn’t he one of the lords of Old Windemer?”

"Oh, he was much more than that, my boy. In the old days, before Windemer fell, there were many royal orders, chartered by the kings and queens of Windemer over the centuries. This building housed one of them, the Order of the Silver Light, tasked with cataloging, preserving, and teaching all the knowledge of the world for the good of the realm. There were others: the Brotherhood of Swords, who combatted the kingdom’s enemies; the Company of Knight Protectors, who defended the common people of Windemer; the Deepwood Rangers, who guarded the wild frontiers of the realm; and many others, tasked with preserving all that was good and right in the world.

“And then there was Stefan the Black. He looked over all these royal orders, and saw the common flaw that they all shared. Do you know what that was, mortal?”

Jeremiah shook his head.

“It was this: that they all were committed to preserve the good only by doing good.”

“And how is that a problem?”

"Because those who would work evil have no such self-imposed limitations. They may use whatever means necessary to achieve their ends. While those who would work good chose only righteous means. And Stefan the Black saw this, and predicted that evil would therefore always triumph over good.

"And so he came to a decision. If the realm of Windemer was to be preserved, it needed an organization that did not place limits on how it defended the realm. One that would fight darkness with darkness, work evil upon evil, and beat back the realm’s enemies by any means necessary. And thus, the Blackwatch came to be.

"Lord Black sought no royal authorization for his new order, making it answerable only to him. In secret, he recruited those who shared his view of the world, and forged them into a knife that would strike the realm’s enemies from behind, by surprise. No tactics were off limits, no stratagem too dark, if it advanced the Blackwatch’s cause.

"Of course, it did not remain a secret forever. In time its name became known to the other royal orders. And being dedicated to the good, those orders saw the Blackwatch as a dark cancer eating at the heart of the realm, corrupting all they sought to defend. And so they added the Blackwatch to the list of enemies they fought.

"And many agents of the Blackwatch returned that enmity. They reasoned that if the realm were to survive, then the Blackwatch must survive; and if the Blackwatch were to survive, the other orders must fall. Soon a secret civil war began right here in the old capitol. The Blackwatch struck at the leaders of the other orders, assassinating many. And the royal orders fought back, making mass arrests of those they believed to be agents of the Blackwatch. At times they even arrested the right people, though more often the accused were innocent.

"It was then that Stefan the Black realized his error. Power corrupts, it is true, and no power corrupts so fast or so thoroughly as power wielded in darkness. In attempting to defend the realm, Lord Black had weakened it, fatally.

"He tried to correct his mistake. He ordered the Blackwatch to disband. But the agents of the Blackwatch refused. They were true believers, you see, convinced of their own righteousness and of the necessity of their actions. And so they turned their knives on their own commander. Stefan the Black was murdered. And the Blackwatch lived on.

"And thus, when darkness fell upon Windemer, the realm was too divided and too corrupted to fight it. The kingdom collapsed. The line of kings was broken. The royal orders died out. This city was abandoned.

“So you see, foolish mortal, that it is not a simple thing you seek to do. Evil acts, even done with good intentions, corrupt. And who knows that more than a thoroughly corrupted creature such as myself?”

Jeremiah shook his head. “I seek no power for myself from this. But I cannot stand by and allow this tyrant to continue on his course.”

“You think your motives pure, your cause just? And yet, you seek to violate the sanctity of a man’s mind. There are those who would judge that a worse violation than murder. Even should you succeed, you will be condemned.”

“So be it,” Jeremiah answered. “I will do what I must.”

The vampire smiled. “‘By any means’? You would have made a fine member of the Blackwatch. As you wish, then. I know where to find what it is you seek, mortal. I will aid you in your quest. If only because I expect you to fail, one way or another. I ask only one thing from you: tell me your name.”

“My name? For what purpose?”

“So that when tales of your dark acts spread across the land, I will know that it was you, and know that I played some small part in your corruption.”

“Very well, then. I am called Jeremiah.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Lord Jeremiah the Black. You may call me Diana. Now, come.”

She led him through dark corridors and down staircases, descending deep into the heart of the Citadel. At last they came to a great bronze door. Jeremiah could see that it was surrounded by a tangled web of magic.

“The vaults of the Silver Citadel,” Diana announced. “Here is where the Citadel’s greatest treasures are stored. You would not have been able to open them without my aid.”

She gestured, and the doors silently swung open. They entered a room filled with row upon row of shelves and cabinets.

Diana led him to one cabinet in particular. The doors seemed to be made of gold but were something else, something much stronger. Diana touched the center of the door, and it opened, revealing a row of small crystalline orbs, glowing in a rainbow of colors.

She took one from the cabinet. “This is the one you want,” she said.

Jeremiah took it from her. It was heavier than he expected. “You have my thanks, my lady.”

“A pleasure,” Diana answered. “Now, let’s see what we can do about those clothes. You can’t be a proper dark wizard dressed like that. You look like a shepherd.”

“I am a shepherd,” Jeremiah told her.

Diana’s laugh echoed through the chamber. “Really? Perhaps you were yesterday, Lord Jeremiah. But today you are something more, and you should look the part. Over here.”

She pulled a set of robes from a rack. They were deep purple in color, with greenish trim. “Here, these are robes of a Master of the Silver Citadel,” she said. “A very junior master, but there are few left who would know the difference, these days. Put them on.”

“I don’t see why-”

“Because they will protect you. Look at them. See what spells are woven into the cloth. You may have had to disguise yourself as an undead creature to reach this city, Jeremiah, but when you leave you will need no such camouflage. The horrors of this realm will recognize you as their master.”

She helped him don the robes, and then stepped back to inspect him. “Excellent. You are quite a handsome young man, did you know that? And these robes are just the thing.”

“I feel ridiculous,” Jeremiah protested.

“But you look – sinister. Commanding. Dangerous.” She nodded. “And dangerous you certainly are.”

Jeremiah sighed. "Very well then. But I must take my leave of you now, my lady. I doubt we shall meet again.

“Don’t be so certain,” she said, smiling archly. “The world is wide and full of darkness, Jeremiah. When the dark overwhelms you and makes you part of it, remember my offer and come back. I will be here.”

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Excellent! Very captivating. Can’t wait for the next installment.

Love, LOVE, LOVE it! :heart: Please continue writing! :smile:

Well worth waiting for. Thank you for sharing!

Jeremiah’s Tale, part 5

Two weeks later:

They grabbed the young woman in the middle of the market square of Edessos in broad daylight and in full view of the townsfolk, not even trying to hide what they were doing. Four men-at-arms, commanded by Lord Hector’s court magician, surrounded her as she shopped for vegetables, and demanded that she come with them.

She tried to fight back, of course, but the guardsmen merely laughed and clouted her on the side of the head, dazing her. A grey-haired shopkeeper tried to intervene, but a slash across his stomach from a guard’s sword ended that quickly. A dark grumble rose from the watching crowd, but the sight of the bleeding man lying on the cobblestones held them back.

“Best come along easy now, girl,” the magician crooned. “His Lordship’s going to treat you nice, he is.”

“I don’t believe she wants to go with you,” a voice called from behind them.

The guards turned to face the man who strode confidently to the front of the crowd. He was tall and lean, with shoulder-length black hair and purplish robes ornately trimmed in green.

The magician frowned at the stranger. “Doesn’t matter what the girl wants,” he snarled. “Lord Hector wants her.”

“Ah, and Lord Hector always gets what he wants, does he?” the stranger challenged. “Not today, I think.”

“And who might you be to stop us?” the magician said with a laugh.

“What, don’t you recognize me, Ranald? I certainly remember you. You always did run at Hector’s heels like a pet dog. So he’s got you running his errands now, does he?”

Ranald made a motion with one hand, and one of the guards strode forward, drawing his sword as he advanced. He raised it to slash at the stranger, but the tall dark-haired man merely made a gesture with his fingers, and the guard’s sword clattered to the ground.

The guard’s eyes widened in sudden fear as he clutched at the arm now hanging limp by his side. “What did you do to my arm?” he hissed.

“Nothing that won’t wear off in a few hours,” the stranger said. “Now, Ranald, I have a message for your master.”

Ranald responded by crossing his arms in front of his chest. A red glow surrounded his hands.

“Oh, so you’ve mastered some magic since we last met?” The stranger grinned, and made a chopping gesture with his left hand. There was a brilliant purple flash, and Ranald’s legs collapsed beneath him. “So have I.”

The stranger advanced on the magician where he lay on the ground, and stood over him. The guards backed away slowly. “Now, here’s my message. I’ve been hearing some disturbing things about Hector. His father’s been in the ground for what, almost six months? And yet Hector seems to have forgotten everything Lord Markham ever taught him about justice and honor and good rulership. He’s nothing but a brigand, stealing from his people and failing to provide the protection he owes them. And abducting women off the street for his own amusement? That’s even worse. He’s been behaving very badly, and it must stop.”

He fixed the guards in a cold stare. “Let her go,” he commanded.

The guards released their hold on the woman, and abruptly turned and ran. The woman sank slowly to the cobblestones.

“Tell Hector this,” the stranger commanded. “His misrule ends today. From this day forward he will be a just and lawful ruler to his people, or he will answer to me.”

“Who are you?” the frightened magician screamed.

“Still don’t remember?” The stranger shook his head. “I was called Jeremiah.”

“Jeremiah?” The wizard’s eyes widened in recognition. “But you were nothing but a cowardly whelp who ran away and never came back!”

“Perhaps that’s true,” the stranger said, nodding. “The man who came back… is quite different from the frightened, overpowered boy who left. Now I am – Jeremiah the Black? No, too pretentious. Call me Jeremiah Black.” And with that, he turned and walked towards the wounded shopkeeper.

“Come back here!” Ranald commanded. “Undo what you did to me, or I’ll make you regret it.”

“I could make it permanent,” Jeremiah called over his shoulder. “Now, crawl back to your master and tell him I want to see him.”

He knelt beside the wounded man, and closed his eyes. “This man needs a healer,” he announced. “One with more skill than I have.”

An old man with a flowing beard pushed his way to the front of the crowd. “I know someone,” he said. “Come with me.”

They quickly improvised a stretcher out of a piece of cloth commandeered from a nearby shopkeeper’s stall, and lifted the man between them. “Make way!” the older man commanded, and the crowd drew aside to let them pass.

They made their way through the narrow streets of the town to a small house, and the old man knocked on the door. “We have a wounded man!” he called.

A young woman with red hair pulled back in a ponytail opened the door. She took one look at the injured shopkeeper and hissed. “Bring him in, quickly!” she ordered.

They laid the man on a table in the front room, and the woman immediately got to work. “He’s badly wounded,” she said. “But I can heal it. He’ll live, as long as there’s no infection. What happened? Hector’s men again?”

The old man nodded. “With Ranald leading them. They were trying to take a woman – Dalia, Harold the shoemaker’s wife. This man tried to intervene.”

“Stupid,” the woman spat. “Stupid, stupid. And I suppose everyone else just stood there and let them do it?”

“Not everyone,” Jeremiah said softly.

The woman looked up, fully taking notice of the younger man for the first time. A look of shocked recognition spread across her face. “Jeremiah?”

He nodded. “Hello, Naomi.”

“But how… What…”

Jeremiah shrugged. “I heard what was happening, and came back to do something about it.”

“He challenged Ranald and his men,” the older man said. “Put some kind of paralysis spell on them. Left Ranald lying in the street.”

“About time somebody stood up to them,” Naomi grumbled as she turned back to the wounded man and resumed her work. “You should have done something like that a long time ago, Tobias.”

“Tobias,” Jeremiah repeated. “Weren’t you Lord Markham’s house wizard?”

The older man nodded. “I was indeed, until Hector turned me out and put that cur Ranald in my place.”

“And you just let him do it?”

“What could I do?” Tobias sighed. “I’m not much of a fighter. Ranald may not be the strongest wizard around, but he can cast a mean fireball, and I’m not powerful enough to stand up to him.”

“Well, I am,” Jeremiah said.

Naomi looked up at him again. “And how did you get to be so powerful? You didn’t have that kind of power when I saw you last.”

“Actually I did. I just had no idea how to use it.”

“So you’ve been off learning wizardry these past few years, is it?”

“And herding sheep,” Jeremiah said.

“So just what is it you plan on doing with our dear Lord Hector?” Naomi’s challenge had an edge of skepticism to it.

In response, Jeremiah walked over to the wounded man. “You said you were worried about infection with this one. You were right to be. With a wound like this, it’s almost inevitable.”

“True,” Naomi said. “But what’s to be done about it? A belly wound is a belly wound.”

Jeremiah laid his hands on the wounded man’s stomach. The wound was already closed, leaving an angry red scar.

“We simply identify the infection,” Jeremiah said in a low voice, “and then eliminate it.”

A purple glow formed around his hands, and then sank into the wounded man’s abdomen.

Naomi’s eyes widened. “What did you do?”

“I burned away the infection,” Jeremiah explained. “Destroyed the bad, so that the good might have a chance. It’s what I do.”

Naomi nodded. “So you’re going to kill Hector then.”

“No, I’m not,” Jeremiah answered.

Naomi’s face hardened. “But he’s a monster.”

“True enough.”

“He took me, you know.”

Jeremiah said nothing, so Naomi continued. “A week or so after his father died, he came to the door with his guards and dragged me back to his castle. I was there two months before Hector got bored with me.”

“I’m sorry,” Jeremiah whispered.

“I was married,” Naomi added.

“I’d heard.”

“He’s dead now. Hector had him killed.”

“I’m sorry.”

“So you see,” Naomi went on, “when I say he deserves to die a horrible death, I have my reasons.”

“I understand,” Jeremiah answered. “And I suspect few would mourn his passing. Certainly not his uncle.”

Tobias, standing in the corner, nodded. “I’ve told you before, Naomi, killing Hector would just put a worse monster in his place.”

“So he goes unpunished, then?”

Jeremiah shook his head. “There are other punishments than death,” he said. “Some that might even be considered worse.”

“Yes, there are,” Tobias agreed. “If you don’t mind being as bad as Hector.”

“Hector’s problem,” Jeremiah went on, “is that his mind is twisted. Now, what’s twisted might possibly be – untwisted. By someone with the right tools.”

Tobias looked alarmed. “Now that is some powerful magic indeed. And very, very dark.”

“True enough,” Jeremiah agreed. “But Hector must be stopped. By any means necessary. And since nobody else is willing or able to do the deed, it seems it must fall to me.”

Naomi nodded slowly. “Hector deserves whatever Jeremiah does to him.”

“He probably deserves worse,” Jeremiah said. “But it’s a fine line to walk. I don’t want to become a worse monster than he is.”

“Are you not already?” Tobias challenged.

“Ask me again tomorrow,” Jeremiah shot back. “You’ll see.”

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I’m in awe. I need more! Bookmarked! I wait with growing impatience for an update!

Vv5KxRa

I don’t know what you do for a living, but maybe you should be writing books fulltime??

I am enthralled. And hanging on the edge of my seat, waiting for the next installment.
Just excellent, @Drumnadrochit!

Thanks! More is coming soon. I had hoped to get the next chapter finished this morning, but life had other plans for me so it will probably be early next week.

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Thank you for writing this!