Chapter 45: Will-o’-the-Wisp

The firearms of the Vares world are not powered by gunpowder. The core of their mechanism lies in a pair of parallel rails and an enchanted power supply. The supply device typically holds a fixed level-one arcane “Electric Claw” enchantment, which, once activated, instantly generates a high-voltage current. This electrifies the rails, forming a closed circuit with the projectile. The electromagnetic repulsion within the rails propels the bullet, sending it whistling from the barrel with a force far greater than any ordinary crossbow, reputedly capable of piercing a leather-covered wooden shield from a hundred paces.

The structure of these firearms is simple, but the cost of manufacture is anything but. To ensure the initial velocity of the metal projectiles, the rails must be cast from special magic crystal alloys. The power supply also requires the addition of magic crystals during the enchantment process to maintain continuous operation, and, most critically, the crystals are consumed and worn down with every use. If the crystals are not replenished in time, the weapon is reduced to nothing more than a useless stick. Magic crystals account for no less than seventy percent of a firearm’s total cost, making them prohibitively expensive, and thus, these new weapons remain rare and have yet to replace the more affordable traditional bows and crossbows—at least for now.

…

Sissi and Jerry, the siblings, originally lived at the “Unfrozen Lake” in the forests upriver from Derlin.

What the fairies called the “Unfrozen Lake” was in truth a large hot spring, about forty li of mountain path from Derlin Town.

Led by the fairy siblings Nick and Nikki, Joann’s party of six rode along the Derlin River Valley. The deeper they ventured, the denser the vegetation on both banks became, and the road grew rough and uneven. Sometimes, they had to dismount and proceed on foot, hacking through thorns and vines that blocked their way.

They set out in the morning, and even as the sun set, had not yet reached their destination. As dusk pressed in, Flint Iron-Anvil’s expression grew increasingly grim. He said to Joann, riding beside him, “Even if we reach the lake, it’ll be dark by then. We dwarves possess dark vision, but you, Conti, and the Dindall brothers do not. Best not to risk a clash with ghouls at night… We should camp near the Unfrozen Lake, find a safe spot away from the riverbank and dense woods, and wait for dawn before making our move.”

Joann nodded, entirely agreeing with the old dwarf’s reasoning. Ghouls, being undead, mostly possessed dark vision as well; the night would not hinder them, but would instead cloak their approach. To avoid being caught off guard, it would be far wiser to confront those water ghouls under the full light of day.

According to Sissi and Jerry’s information, they were already close to the Unfrozen Lake. Going any further might alert the water ghouls lurking by the shore, so Flint decided to camp nearby, choosing an open area away from the riverbank and forest to avoid a stealthy attack under cover of darkness or woods.

Everyone dismounted, stretched their stiff limbs, and eased the fatigue of the long ride. While searching for a place to camp, Joann noticed a flicker of firelight deep in the woods ahead and paused in surprise.

Tom also spotted the distant glow, which looked like an orange lantern swinging among the trees. He shouted excitedly, “Look, everyone! There’s a light up ahead—maybe we won’t have to sleep outdoors tonight!”

“It looks like a mountain homestead. We could ask to stay the night and perhaps learn something about the water ghouls,” Dick suggested.

“Hold on! Isn’t it strange to find a homestead in these wild mountains? Especially so close to the ghouls’ lair. Wouldn’t the residents be afraid?” Roger questioned cautiously.

“Roger’s right. That light seems suspicious. We’d best be careful,” Joann said, feeling a vague sense of foreboding.

“If it’s not a homestead’s lamp, could it be a traveler’s campfire?” Conti wondered.

“I fear it’s not a campfire,” the old dwarf said, stroking his long beard gravely. “I’ve lived a hundred and fifty years, and never seen a campfire that moves.”

Just as Flint spoke, the orange firelight drifted through the woods, steadily approaching their chosen campsite.

The half-blood winter wolf, the most sensitive among them, sensed the evil within that glow and began to howl.

Joann crouched to calm Jamie, gently stroking his back, then informed the group, “Jamie senses the presence of necromantic evil. If I’m not mistaken, that light is likely a ghost fire born of wraiths.”

At the mention of “ghost fire,” everyone—including Flint—turned pale. Ghost fires are a form of incorporeal undead, most often the souls of those who died violent deaths, corrupted and fused by negative energy. They haunt battlefields and bandit-ridden wilderness, driven by a bitter hatred for the living, spreading terror and despair wherever they drift. Any creature slain by a ghost fire has its soul likewise tainted and absorbed. The more wraiths a ghost fire consumes, the stronger it grows, as a bonfire fed with wood.

The ghost fire now approaching Joann’s party was as large as a washbasin, its size hinting at how many innocent souls it had devoured.

“A ghost fire… It might be a scout sent by the water ghouls,” Flint mused, stroking his beard.

Dick brandished his battle axe, declaring, “Ghost fire or fiend flame, it’s all the same to me. If it’s trouble, I’ll give it a taste of my axe!”

“Don’t rush in. Let me handle this!” Roger stopped his impulsive brother, unshouldered his hunting rifle, loaded it deftly, and took aim.

“Can you hit it?” Dick asked, watching his brother with concern.

“With a target that obvious, I’d have to try to miss,” Roger replied, a confident smile curving his lips. Using the sights, he locked onto the drifting ghost fire and squeezed the trigger. The gun spat a bright arc of electricity, and the lead bullet streaked through the night, striking the ghost fire a hundred feet away.

At the instant of impact, the ghost fire trembled and vanished, plunging the woods into darkness.

Tom raised his torch, bewildered. “Did the hunting rifle extinguish it so easily?”

“Roger, watch out!” Dick suddenly shoved his brother aside. At that moment, an orange glow abruptly appeared where Roger had been standing.

“Die, monster!”

Dick, fierce and bold, swung his axe down on the ghost fire. The sharp blade passed through the apparition as if slicing empty air, crashing into the rocky ground and sending up a shower of sparks.

Dick’s blow missed, and he stumbled forward with the force of his swing. The ghost fire seized the moment to strike, colliding with Dick. As they touched, a surge of electricity whipped out from within the fire, lashing Dick like a glowing whip and knocking him to the ground, his body convulsing and paralyzed.

The ghost fire hovered over the fallen Dick, clearly intent on delivering a fatal blow and claiming his soul.

Just then, a giant hand formed of pure magic swept in and slapped the ghost fire away from Dick!

P.S. The alloy used for electromagnetic rails in magic crystal firearms possesses room-temperature superconducting properties.