Path of the Necromancer Book 1 (A LootRPG Series)

by Deck Davis

  With every wipe, fresh blood trickled from his wounds and over his shirt and his trousers. He dipped another corner of the rag into the vial of restoration. The liquid stained the rags pink, and he rubbed this around the edges of each wound. There was no pain on contact this time; the agony salve had done its work.

  In a few seconds the edges of his wounds began to close, the flesh knitting itself together. He hadn’t used as much of the vial as he should, so the wounds didn’t close completely.

  That didn’t matter. His practicality reigned, and he couldn’t bring himself to use more because he never knew when he’d get his hands on another vial. If he used it all up and he took another cut down the line, he was in trouble.

  All that mattered was that the agony salve had stopped the pain, and the restoration vial had stopped the blood. He was fixed up and ready to go.

  With his wounds attended to, that left a subject he wasn’t sure what to do about – the boy.

  To give himself time to think, he decided to do something else.

  “Better see what loot they left,” he said to himself, standing up.

  He’d heard stories about how warriors raided dungeons and went deeper than they should because they grew addicted to loot. He was beginning to understand why.

  He’d looted things from the outpost and they’d come in handy already, and with his boots of focus and the intimidating black hue of his sword, he was already better equipped than when he’d left the academy.

  He guessed that the addictiveness of finding loot came from never knowing what you’d find; he had scored two uncommon rated items already, and discovering those had spiked him with adrenaline. What would happen if he found something rare, or even mythical? How amazing would that feel?

  Looking around he couldn’t see much loot, but he guessed that loot was supposed to be hard to find, so he’d keep searching. Even if he found nothing, it put distance and distraction between him and the questions burning in his mind.

  “Wait here,” he said to the boy, only looking at him out of the corner of his eye.

  The boy didn’t reply.

  He took his dagger from the sheath fixed to his overcoat. Using this, he stripped the claws from the dead creatures, prying them loose from their hands. He didn’t feel any squeamishness when he cracked their bones and tore the claws free; he’d spent too long around cadavers in the academy to worry about that.

  He didn’t know what the claws were made of or even if they were valuable, but he could take them to the academy alchemists and see if anyone had any use for them in their potions. Field agents often brought things back to the alchemists to sell and who knew, maybe he’d get lucky.

  With the claws in his inventory bag, he went to the alcoves in the walls where the creatures had emerged from. He did this with caution; holding his sword in one hand and a torch he’d taken from the walls in the other, since the flames on his sword had died.

  The first alcove was barely bigger than an outhouse, and it had nothing in it. It seemed that the creature had been waiting in here, standing in the darkness until the alcoves had opened to release it.

  That made him think that the room had been a trap, but he doubted it had been made that way expressly for him; how could anyone have known that he would come down here?

  That begged the question of what the room was, but he shut that mental door as soon as it threatened to open. Loot first, and questions later, once his mind had cleared.

  In the second alcove he found a wooden chest with a clasp locking it shut. He should have been confused at the presence of a chest in such a strange location, but that was what dungeoneering as all about.

  There were hundreds of thousands of miles of dungeons running underneath all the land, and nobody knew who put them there, or why. The academy sent their warriors and rogues into the unmapped parts both in the hope of scoring loot and to weed out the promising fighters from the weak. After all, if a warrior died in a dungeon, then he wasn’t too good a warrior, was he?

  One thing nobody could accuse Queen Patience’s Magic Academy of was being too sentimental.

  Jakub guessed that this underground basement must have been part of one of those dungeons. That meant there could be other tunnels nearby. He guessed that the builder of the outpost had blocked them off, since the only tunnel from the basement entrance had led here, to this room with a dead end.

  He’d ask Kortho when he got back to him, because the liguana was obsessed with the lore of the endless dungeons. As a necromancer his duties never took him there, so he’d take holiday time and spend half of it with his wife, half of it battling through some dungeon with a bunch of warriors.

  Kortho would know what the deal was here, but right now, Jakub had a locked chest, an undead kid, and a missing corpse to deal with.

  He tackled the first problem by smashing the clasp with the hilt of his sword once and then again, and the metal shattered, pinging off the wall and straight into his face.

  He looked around to see if the boy was watching him.

  “You didn’t see that, kid, did you?”

  The boy didn’t answer.

  Phew. That could have been embarrassing.

  Rubbing his cheek where the metal had hit him, he opened the chest and then pressed his thumb tattoo and waited to see what loot he had scored.

  *Loot Received!*

  Jade-framed mirror

  *Common*

  Value: 25S

  Bag of Beef Sandwiches

  *Common*

  Two slices of bread with meat in the middle, then pressed together to create what is known as a ‘sandwich’.

  The Vagrant Blade

  ***Rare***

  A rusted and cracked iron sword. When wielded, your clothes and appearance will become ragged and dirty, making you look like a vagrant.

  3 Gold coins

  2 Silver coins

  7 Bronze coins

  His heart beat in his chest as he looked over the loot. He’d scored something rare! Seeing the rare blade was a rush, and at first, overwhelming.

  “Vagrant blade, huh? Never heard of anything like it. Hey, kid, take a look at this.”

  The boy didn’t make any move to join him, but that didn’t matter; he was glad to have found a legendary weapon.

  When he looked closer at its description and saw that this wasn’t a mighty blade at all, the rush faded.

  “When I pick up the sword, I’ll turn into a vagrant? What the hell?”

  What was the benefit of his appearance magically transforming into a vagrant? He’d never been in a situation before where he’d thought, transforming into a homeless man would really improve things here.

  Besides that, the blade itself looked too rusted and nicked to use in battle.

  Still, rare was rare, and he guessed that someone might have a use for it, even if he didn’t. Maybe he could find someone to sell it to when he got back to the academy, or some town along the way. Kortho was going to be in a hurry once they found the traitor’s body, but Jakob could persuade him to make a stop.

  He put the vagrant blade in his bag and looked at the rest of his haul.

  The jade-framed mirror, like the blade, was useless in a practical sense. It was worth 25 silver, but he guessed he’d only get half that when he tried to sell it, since any trader he encountered would have the bartering skill, and would be able to push the price down.

  The bag of beef sandwiches wasn’t much of a find at all, since they didn’t resemble sandwiches at all but instead were a rotted pile of mush in a clear bag.

  “Who puts beef sandwiches in a locked chest?”

  He ignored those, and instead scooped up the scattering of gold, silver and bronze coins, and he put those and the mirror in his bag.

  With that done, and seeing nowhere else in the room where loot might be waiting, he left the alcove and re-joined the boy.

  15

  “Can you speak?” he said, looking at the boy. “You don’t need to be shy.”


  The child was sitting back over at the wall now, with his knees drawn up and his hands clasped around them as if he was tucking himself up to be as small as possible.

  Jakub recognized the way he sat, because he knew he used to do that back when he first joined the academy. It made his heart ache for him.

  “Who are you?” Jakub asked.

  The boy opened his mouth wide and made a groaning sound.

  He didn’t have a tongue.

  The sight brought an immediate lurch to his stomach, before his training kicked in and he recovered.

  “Shit,” he said. “Who did that to you?”

  He can’t answer you, moron.

  He knew what he should do here. Academy field policy stated any non-academy people were secondary to the assigned task, no matter their situation or injuries. Duty above self, duty above love, duty above all, after all.

  What if Kortho had followed that years ago, when Jakub was a kid and he was surrounded by fire, covered in blood, trapped in a field of echoes that carried his family’s screams back and forth?

  His village hadn’t been a part of Kortho’s assignment; Kortho had heard a rumor in a tavern about what was happening and he decided to take a look, arriving there just when the horror threatened to devour Jakub.

  The way Jakub saw it, if he helped the boy, he was still sticking to the duty credence. It was the academy’s duty to help the people they found along the way. You never knew if the kid you rescued would one day grow up to be a fully-fledged necromancer, like Jakub.

  He put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Come with me. I’m going back to my instructor, and he’ll know what to do.”

  And he’ll know what the hell this is about, he thought.

  His plan was the best one, for now. Kortho would have a better handle on this, and besides, Jakub was ready to get back to him. The fact was, he was worried about Kortho. The Killeshi had said she would be able to help him, but Jakub didn’t know her and he didn’t want to leave her alone with Kortho for long.

  Wait…the deal! The thought burst into the forefront of his mind. He’d promised to use his necromancy for her in exchange for her helping Kortho, and he couldn’t use necromancy without soul essence.

  He took out his necklace so that it was visible over his shirt, and he rubbed the diamond tattoo of his Soul Harvest glyphline. Focusing on the corpses of the creatures he’d killed, he said the spellword of Essence Grab, and he breathed in.

  Essence left the creatures in waves of blue, like fog, before gathering in his necklace, drawn from the air by the essence compass set inside it.

  Blue light filled the necklace head three quarters full. Was that enough for what the Killeshi girl wanted?

  It’d have to be.

  *Necromancy Experience Gained!*

  [IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII ]

  “Come on,” he said to the boy.

  The boy didn’t move. He brought his knees tighter against his chest.

  Jakub offered his hand to the boy and gave him the warmest smile he could manage. He’d been working on becoming more of a smiler lately, after getting a comment from a girl in the academy mess hall about how grumpy he always looked.

  It seemed he still needed practice.

  “No? You don’t trust me?” said Jakub.

  The boy looked at him and blinked.

  Jakub sucked in his cheeks and thought. “We need to get you a way of talking. Can you write?”

  The boy shook his head.

  “It’s okay; it’ll have to be nods for yes, shakes for no. Besides, some artificers sell pencils that transcribe from your thoughts. Come with me, and we’ll find out why you’re out here alone. You must have family, right?”

  The boy shook his head again.

  “Yeah, we’re two peas in a pod, then. What do you say? You want to come with me?”

  The boy shook his head again. Jakub sighed. He didn’t want to leave him here, but he needed to get back to Kortho as soon as he could. Not only that but he still had to follow the death scent of the soldier whose body had gone missing. His window of opportunity for that was almost shut.

  He needed to do something to win his trust. What would have comforted Jakub at that age? What had always made him feel better when he was scared?

  With that thought, Jakub smiled at the boy again.

  “You’re going to like this. Watch.”

  Jakub touched the tattoo of his Death Bind glyphline and said the spellword, and the spectral form of Ludwig formed in front of him.

  The demonic hound saw the boy, and he twisted his jaws in a smile. “Hello again, little friend. Have the monsters gone?”

  The boy grinned so wide that his stub of his tongue showed. He nodded.

  “They’re gone? Great. Then we can go for a walk.”

  Jakub coughed. “Hello, Lud.”

  Ludwig scratched his nose with his paw. “Hi, Jakub. It’s a pleasure to see you again, of course.”

  It was then that the boy did something surprising. He reached out and tried to hug Ludwig.

  Unfortunately, he fell straight through the spectral hound and hit the floor. Jakub helped him up.

  Even so, he was reassured that his idea had worked. He remembered how much Lud’s mere presence had always made him feel better when he first joined the academy.

  “You can’t touch him,” he said, “but he’s my friend, and he’s your friend now. Hells, he’s everyone’s friend. His name is Ludwig, but you can call him Lud. Will you come with me if Ludwig is here?”

  The boy nodded. He got to his feet, dusted the front of his trousers - which had been cut at the shin so they were almost shorts - and straightened his jumper.

  “Great. One problem solved,” said Jakub. “Now that I’ve used the essence to summon Lud again, I’ll have to follow the death scent right away. I can’t afford to run out.”

  16

  When they got back outside, the forest sang with the shrieks, squawks, and roars of the nighttime predators. Figures slunk over rocks, rushed through thornweeds and flapped from tree branches in search of prey, making the place seem more alive at night than it had in the day.

  From his studies, Jakub knew he had nothing to fear from most of the creatures of the night. The owls wouldn’t care he was there; they wanted mice and voles. The split-tooth rats, even though they were as big as dogs, would rather avoid him than take him on.

  When it came to humans, ninety-five percent of the animal kingdom didn’t give a damn.

  That didn’t stop him feeling wary. He fastened his belt tighter around his overcoat and checked that the sheaths on his right and left side were unclasped, so he could draw either his blackened sword or his dagger.

  A clattering sound came from their right, and a shape flew across the sky, almost blended into the black.

  “What was that?” said Ludwig, snapping his head left then right.

  “Calm down, it was a bird. An owl, or something.”

  “I don’t like it. Keep your sword out.”

  “For a demonic hound, you’re pretty jumpy. Even the kid isn’t scared.”

  “It’s a scary world up here. Places for things to hide, lots of shadows, thornweeds.”

  “You come from the Greylands, Lud. The place where the dead walk, with demons running around, and stuff.”

  “Life’s simpler for it. Nowhere to hide in the Greylands. You should come and visit one day, Jakub. See where I live. What do you think?”

  “You know I can’t.”

  “I’ve seen necromancers do it lots of times!”

  “Most of them lose their minds, too. You want me to end up like that?”

  “You spoil all my fun,” said Ludwig.

  Unlike Ludwig, the boy didn’t seem to fear the forest at night. Maybe it was because he was used to it, or perhaps he just had the fearlessness of youth. Either way, it was only Ludwig’s presence that had made him leave the basement.

  Ludwig bounded ahead, sniffing the air for the death scent. Jakub would have
preferred to follow the trail with Kortho by his side, but the scent wouldn’t linger for long now before being lost to them.

  He needed to follow the scent to wherever it stopped, and then decide from there. He didn’t want to lose the trail of the solider who might be their only lead to the body of the traitor, nor did he want to be away from Kortho for too long.

  Ludwig darted to the left, beyond a crooked oak tree and toward a patch of thorn bushes.

  “Slow down,” said Jakub.

  “Sorry, but the scent goes this way.”

  “It looks too thick to get through. Are you sure?”

  “Has my nose ever lied?”

  “No, but your mouth has enough times to make up for it. Come on, jug ears, let’s follow your famous nose.”

  Ludwig led them through where the thornweeds were thickest until finally, they came to a path where some of the thorn branches had been hacked.

  “Someone walked through here, but it looks like the bushes grow back over.”

  “This land is different than back home,” said Ludwig. “The Killeshi say it is sentient.”

  “I hope it doesn’t object to me hacking through it again. Lead the way, Lud.” Then he looked at the boy. “Stay close to the path I’m clearing. The thorns will shred you.”

  “He’s undead,” said Ludwig. “I don’t think thorns are a problem.”

  The fact that the boy was undead was another mystery he’d shut away in his mind. It was easy to lose your focus when your questions overwhelmed you, and Jakub couldn’t afford to waste time now.

  The answers wouldn’t come to him; he needed Kortho. Luckily, his academy training had given him the tools to lock those questions away.

  “It’s getting stronger,” said Ludwig. “This way.”

  Being of the Greylands, Ludwig slipped straight through the bushes without them touching him. Jakub had to use his sword to hack his way through. With hardly any time to recover from his earlier fight, the effort made his biceps burn. Not only that, but every few hacks and grunts were accompanied by crashing sounds nearby.