by Deck Davis
“They couldn’t have brought Kortho here,” said Jakub. “It makes no sense. They have taken him to the hamlet so they could draw us there.”
“We’re aren’t far away, so you’ll have you answer soon,” said Ludwig.
That became apparent after a few more minutes when they walked into a wall of stench ripe enough to nearly knock them out. It was death in the air, no mistaking that. One aspect of goodlight was that as well as keeping the resurrection window open, it also helped preserve the body. No point reviving someone into a body ruined by rot, was there?
Whoever had died here hadn’t been preserved by goodlight, so it couldn’t have been Kortho.
“Over here,” said Ludwig, sprinting away.
They found the body just out of sight of the dirt path. His body was covered in blood and in the earliest stages of decay. His head was a few meters away, severed at the neck with what looked like two or three sword cuts. It hadn’t been quick.
Rud saw the severed head and turned away from it, walking a few steps away. Jakub left the head and checked the body. When he rolled it over, he saw that the dead man was wearing a black coat with the academy emblem sewn into it.
“How can you get so close to it?” said Rud.
“De-sensitization training.”
“Is death something you should become de-sensitized to?”
“Don’t get moral with me. If your job involves being around death, then yeah, you should become used to it. It doesn’t turn you into a killer, or something. What, you think a funeral director should weep every time he sees a corpse?”
“Jakub…” said Ludwig, giving him a reproachful look.
“I’m sorry. I’m tense.”
“Who is this guy?” said Rud.
Jakub had known as soon as he saw the man’s emblem. Aside from he and Kortho, there was only one man from the academy who was due to travel to the Killeshi lands – the Inquisitor.
“This couldn’t get any worse. We don’t have Kortho’s body and even if we did, we just lost our way of getting a necromancer from the academy here.”
“There might still be a way,” said Ludwig.
“No. There’s no sign of a wagon. Even if he had one, it’s gone now.”
“Don’t you have enough to buy one?”
“Only what I looted. It wouldn’t be enough to even buy a wheel.”
“Was this him, do you think? Did Ryden do this?” said Ludwig.
“No,” said Rud. “Ryden wouldn’t have left the body. We…they… use them, and they have to be recently-dead.”
Jakub touched his harvest glyphline and drained essence from the dead inquisitor. Next, he approached the man’s head. His hair was slick with blood, his eyes like glass.
Ludwig joined Jakub.
“You’re going to watch how he died?”
“At least it’ll show me who did it. I need to fade you again, Lud.”
“Okay, Jakub.”
Jakub stared at his friend. His mind flashed back to the Greylands, where he’d been stuck on an ivory spike, undead but suffering. He wished he could hug him.
“Be careful down there, okay?”
“I will.”
Jakub revoked his Summon Bound spell, leaving him with the inquisitor’s corpse, Rud, and Chaser.
“What now?” said Rud.
“Watch.”
Jakub cast Last Rites on the inquisitor. The rites formed in a rectangle of light beside him.
“What is this?”
“Just concentrate. I can’t spare the essence to do this again.”
He and Rud watched the last minutes of the inquisitor’s life. They saw Killeshi warriors approach him from all angles, a swarm of them with pale faces and holding swords, axes, and bows.
The inquisitor turned this way and that, waving his sword at his attackers as a threat, but the Killeshis didn’t care. Even without sound Jakub knew they were silent; they didn’t open their lips even a single time as they advanced on the man and raised their weapons.
Jakub could feel the terror of it; to meet your end in a strange land at the hands of pale-faced warriors.
The queendom had underestimated the danger of the Killeshi lands. They’d put too much faith in the Red Eye outpost keeping things under control here, making it safe for them to come.
The inquisitor had underestimated it, Jakub had, even Kortho. Beyond him, going up the Red Eye ladder as high as possible, they had all taken it for granted that two necromancers and an inquisitor could just stroll into the Killeshi lands and recover the body.
Sure, they haven’t counted on a mother wyrm and a banished necromancer messing things up, but still.
With the inquisitor’s last rites finished, text floated in front of Jakub.
*Necromancy Experience Gained!*
[IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII]
*Level Up!*
New level: Novice 3
Skill increased: Last Rites increased to Lvl 2 [Resurrection Glyphline]
- You can now hear sound from a person’s last moments of death
- Duration of Last Rites extended to 10 minutes
Skill increased: Health Harvest increased to Lvl 2 [Soul Harvest Glyphline]
- Essence needed reduced
- Your Health Harvest can now heal poisons
Skill Learned: Death Puppet [1] [Resurrection Glyphline]
You can temporarily raise a corpse of any size from the dead. They will not be sentient; instead, you can see through their eyes and control their body.
Beware; your time in your puppet is limited, and if you do not leave the corpse before your time expires, you will be trapped in their state of death.
His heart hammered as he read the words. It wasn’t his improved Last Rites that made him shake with excitement; adding sound to his Last Rites visions was immense and something that he knew would help, but it was the last string of text that excited him so much.
Death Puppet. The ability to restore motor function to a corpse and wear it like a suit, to animate and use their body. There was so much he could do with it.
He’d hoped to earn the Necromancer’s Cleanse spell so that he could keep his deal with Morrigan and banish the spirits from her body, but this spell was worth much more.
He already had an idea of what they could do.
“I’m sorry,” said Rud, putting his hand on Jakub’s back.
“For what?”
“Your friend. I’m sorry this happened to him.”
“This isn’t Kortho,” said Jakub. “This is an inquisitor. We need to go, Rud.”
“Go where?”
“Back to the hamlet. I think they have Kortho and Morrigan.”
“What about the Killeshi and what you showed me? This man was murdered by them.”
“My friend Morrigan has hidden from the Killeshi for years, and they wouldn’t have been able to find her in the alcove. If the boy was Ryden’s bound spirit, then he would have been able to report their location to his master. It looks like both of the things we need are in the hamlet, Rud; I can find my friends, and you can get back to Florence.”
“There are two of us. It’s impossible.”
“Not with my new spell.”
“New spell?”
“How many guards are in the camp, Rud?”
He thought about it. “We keep four patrolling the hills when things are quiet. Now? I’d guess they’ve trebled it. Maybe even put everyone on guard duty again.”
“How many would that be?”
“At least twenty adults. There’s Ryden, too.”
“Well, you get nothing if you aren’t prepared to take a little risk. We need to go. But first…”
“What?”
“Give me a second.”
Jakub searched the area around them and gathered some of the inquisitor’s scattered belongings. Next, he looted the headless body, checking pockets, sheaths, and anything else where the inquisitor might have kept something.
“You’re looting the dead?” sa
id Rud.
“He doesn’t need his things anymore.”
When he’d gathered everything he could find and placed it in a pile on the ground, he touched his thumb tattoo and let it inventory the loot for him.
*Loot Received!*
Inquisitor’s Belt of Persuasion
**Uncommon**
When worn, the Inquisitor’s belt will add more weight to your promises, more fear to your threats. A strong mind will still resist it, but it may unlock the minds of weaker men.
5lbs of Exotic Spices
**Uncommon**
A blend of valuable herbs and spices for use in trade…or just to add a little zing to your meals.
1 Vial of Restoration
Crossbow of Vampiric Drain
***Rare***
A crossbow that adds a vampiric effect to any bolts loaded into it; when an enemy is hit by its bolts, their lifeforce is given to the wielder.
Blade of Purge Evil
***Rare***
A blunt sword unsuited for normal combat. When used on a person with a good soul, it will simply pass through, leaving them unharmed. When used on a dark soul, it will purge the evil from them.
What a haul, he thought as he read the loot text. The inquisitor must have been higher in the academy hierarchy than most. Either that, or he had amassed his loot through numerous field assignments.
Either way, the academy’s doctrine of loot meant that Jakub was rightful owner of it all now, and he couldn’t have been happier.
The Blade of Purge Evil sang to his thoughts straight away; could he use this to remove the spirits from Morrigan? Maybe. If it purged a body of its evil spirits, then might it also remove Morrigan herself from the body, too? She was a spirit, after all, and she’d forcibly taken possession of a body. That didn’t speak of having a good soul.
He didn’t know the answer to that, but he put the blade in his bag. Next he picked up the Crossbow of Vampiric Drain. It was a weighty weapon, and its rareness was clear in the ornamental carvings on it. He couldn’t use it, but it would be worth a great deal of gold.
Perhaps enough to pay for a mana carriage to take Kortho back home. Maybe this was the way.
First, he needed to get Kortho back, and to do that, the crossbow would have a better use; being wielded by someone who could actually shoot with it.
“Take this,” he told Rud. “Be careful with it.”
Rud lifted the crossbow, turning it over and marveling at it. “This is amazing.”
“It doesn’t just look pretty; it’s artificed. That means it has magic wrought into it, and whoever you shoot with it, their lifeforce will drain to you. It’ll heal any wounds you take – as long as you don’t get yourself killed before you can actually fire it.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s a loan, not a gift. Be careful with it.”
“Are we going to the camp now?”
“Yes, but we have a stop to make first. I need to collect a body.”
He brought up his map, checked their position, and then set off in the direction of Morrigan’s hut.
CHAPTER 61 - Florence
She was going out of her mind with worry. Ever since Rud had disappeared with the man in the black overcoat they had kept her prisoner in this tent, always with two people standing watch outside. She couldn’t see who they were, but she could see their silhouettes against the fabric of the tent. When they relieved the men, they posted two more outside.
Nobody would tell her anything. Not even her father had come to see her. They just kept her here sick with panic, with endless questions about Rud floating through her mind.
Even worse, she’d heard her father talking to the guards outside. She’d heard him say that they were bringing her initiation forward.
A figure loomed outside the tent and spoke to the silhouetted guards outside. The men left, and the tent began to unzip.
It was her father. He was coming for her now, coming to make her do it, to force her to eat the flesh of the dead and be like them, full of dead meat in her belly, full of sin.
When the figure stepped in, she saw that it wasn’t her father; it was someone much worse.
“I’m sorry we had to keep you here like this,” he said.
She’d always been scared of necromancer Ryden. She’d tried not to show it to his face; she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. He was a conduit to the initiations, he was the reason it could happen. It was he who helped her father and mother and all the others eat the dead.
If he had never come to their camp, it could have been different.
No sense thinking about it now. She just needed to be strong. She would never, ever show this man her fear.
“Father is too much of a coward to take me to my initiation himself, then,” she said.
“When you get a little older, you’ll see that there’s no such thing as cowardice,” said Ryden. “Fear is natural, and succumbing to it even more so.”
“Well, I’m not scared of you.”
“You’re scared of what they do, though, aren’t you?”
“I’m not scared. I hate that they chose to corrupt themselves, but it doesn’t scare me. I pity them.”
She hoped that Ryden hadn’t picked up on the tremor in her voice. Maybe she could pass it off as being cold. Anything so that he didn’t see the fear that was creeping up on her against her will.
“You shouldn’t think badly of them. The dead are just that – dead. If the living can harness something from their flesh, then why not do it? A corpse has no use for the talents within it.”
“It’s sick.”
“A man can build up invaluable skills in his life. Say there was a doctor who could cure any disease with just a touch. He’d could save countless lives, yes? Say this man died. Should his gift be lost just because his flesh has perished?”
“They don’t eat the dead to get the good things, do they? Only the bad. Skills with a blade, magic. Most of the time, they get nothing. You necromancers sell them a lie, and they dine on it through hope.”
“Perhaps. I don’t partake in Imbibism myself, but stoking the people’s beliefs was necessary so they would let me stay. It doesn’t matter anymore; I have what I need, and that means I have no use for this bunch of vagrants. I’ll leave them all to the Killeshi soon. But not you, girl.”
“I won’t do it. You’ll have to cram the flesh down my throat. Make me choke on it. I’ll die before I do it.”
“That part is true, alright.”
A deep, sickening fear tremored through her now, because when she looked into Ryden’s eyes she saw not what she expected; if there was evil in his eyes, that would have been something she could understand.
It wasn’t evil; it was remorse. She felt deep down that it was a remorse about something that he was about to do.
“What do you want?” she said, all pretense of hiding her fear gone.
“You will die before they make you eat the dead, my girl, because I am going to kill you now.”
Ryden spoke a word. It was a word she’d never heard before, one that she didn’t know the meaning of.
He spoke it three times, and a blue light seeped from his shirt, snaking through his collar and swirling around him.
It took form around her; three forms. One, a little monster with a goatee beard and spectacles. The other, some kind of cat but bigger, like a lion, and made from a haze of light.
The third was a boy. Nothing like the other two figures, just a little boy with pale skin and a sad look on his face. When he opened his mouth, she saw that his tongue had been severed.
She opened her mouth to scream, but Ryden was on her with his hand around her throat before she could tease out the sound.
He squeezed so hard she could barely breath. He took out a dagger and gently pushed it into her mouth. She tried to clamp it shut, but he prized her jaw open.
“No words,” said Ryden. “No screams. You will be a silent one now and forever more.”
Terror suc
ked the screams from her mind, it froze her chest, paralyzed her. She had never been so petrified in her life, it was a feeling that wound deep into her like a knife stabbing her insides, severing her nerves.
Ryden kept her mouth open with his dagger, and he reached into it with his fingers and grabbed her tongue.
She tried to bite, but she couldn’t.
Then he started to cut, and pain flooded her mind until her skull was about to burst, and she tasted blood but she couldn’t scream, couldn’t move.
Darkness hit her with the weight of a punch, and her mind shut down completely.
When she awoke, she wasn’t in the tent. She was somewhere else; a vast landscape of cracked ground, with rivers of pure blue running in hundreds of different channels, and monstrous spider-things in the distance.
She pushed herself up off the ground. She put her hands in front of her and saw that they were different now; they were still hers, but they were almost see-through now, made from a spectral light.
“It is over,” said Ryden.
She turned to see him. His creatures were standing at his side.
She tried to speak, but her mouth felt strange, and the only sound that came out were rasps.
What had he done to her?
Her tongue!
She put her fingers in her mouth, but she couldn’t touch her tongue.
“You don’t need words anymore, Florence. Use your mind.”
She tried. She teased words into her brain.
What have you done to me?
Ryden put his arm across the boy’s shoulders. “You are my bound spirit now, girl, and these are your brothers.”
CHAPTER 62
They reached Morrigan’s hut as the sun started to set. There were three bodies outside it and one within, laying on the floor where he’d left it. It was the man who Jakub had stabbed in the gut after they’d attacked the hut.
He hadn’t been dead long enough for rot to set in, but his fingers were rock solid in rigor mortis, and there was a wound in his belly. His shirt around it was stained with blood, and his nose was twisted from where he’d smashed face-first into the floor.