MAGICKA: THE NINTH ELEMENT
said Egad. “Dead Wizards tell no tales, she said before.” “Egad ...” said Yix. “Ah, no need to thank me again, Professor,” said Egad, as he excavated an impressive clot of earwax, which clung to the tip of his finger like a gooey yellowbrown boutonnière. He flung it off and winced as it flew and stuck to the side of Yix’s helmet. “Ah ... I am here to serve.” “I’m one Wizard who may have a tale to tell if you don’t put things right,” said Tuonetar. She raised a clenched fist and stomped her foot. Yix got the distinct feeling someone had just walked on her grave. “Naturally, I will do what I can,” she said hurriedly. There is a good chance anyone we bring back to life won’t remember a thing anyway. No harm, no foul, eh?” “If you say so, Professor,” said Tuonetar, her voice laced with icy scorn. “The thing to understand about Resurrection,” said Yix, assuming a more confident professorial tone, “is it can only bring back the mostly dead, not the truly and sincerely dead. So let’s see what we have here.” Yix studied the burnt husk of Turq. “Fire arrows, eh? I quite forgot we added those. Yes, Toasty here we can fix.” “That was Turq,” said Tuonetar. “Quite so.” Yix noticed the stains on the wall that had been Vidrir, Sadr and Thekk. “Did the masher take three with one swat?” There was a faint note of pride in her voice. “It did,” confirmed Grimnir. Yix crossed the room for a closer look, trailed closely by Egad. “Hmm, I suppose there is enough to 29