The Necromancer Series Box Set

by Deck Davis

  It was the same flawed flow of thoughts that used to make him do things like avoid stepping on cracks in the stone in the belief that the universe was watching him, and that by these stupid acts he could avoid terrible things happening.

  “Tell me what happened,” he said, his lungs aching as he kept up with their speed. Ludwig bounded along next to him.

  Instructor Gascon stopped running now. Thankful, Jakub stopped too.

  “Novice Marsh needs a necromancer, and a master at that,” said Gascon.

  “She’s dead?”

  “I would have thought you would have learned not to use such absolute terms, novice. Did you know Abbie?”

  “We were... friends.”

  “Then I am sure she will be happy to see you after her resurrection.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Not only did worrying about Abbie knock his preparation for his inquiry out of his head, but Mason D’Angelt and instructor Gascon had taken Abbie to the resurrection chambers and banned anyone below the rank of master from entering. Even the lower-rung necromancers couldn’t go in.

  He guessed most guys, seeing their ex-girlfriend dead, would have barely been able to function. Then again, most guys hadn’t spent the last ten years of their life studying death, and most guys hadn’t undergone the same de-sensitization training as Jakub.

  As well as that, Gascon was right; death didn’t need to be absolute. It was something of a job requirement that he understood and agreed with that.

  Without being able to go into the chambers, though, he couldn’t see what was happening, and that meant he had nothing to do but let his worry and questions crash in his mind.

  Not only that, but Instructor Irvine, Madam Lolo, and Instructor Henwright were supposed to be in charge of his inquiry, and all three of them were called in to perform Abbie’s resurrection.

  Jakub waited in the necromancy wing of the academy. This was the brightest wing of the whole building, with every wall painted pastel green, yellow, and blue. Banners and bunting were hanging across the gothic arches, and where the rest of the academy had stained glass murals depicting scenes of the academy’s past, the glass on the necromancy wing showed scenes of spring lambs and new-born babies. Dogs bounding over fields, shepherds dozing in the sun while they watched their flock.

  Necromancers had a hang-up about that kind of thing. Out of all the arts practiced in the academy, necromancy had a reputation for being the most morbid. Irvine, the head of necromancy in the academy, had made it his mission to set that straight.

  “Can we go to the canteen?” said Ludwig.

  “So you can get some attention from the other students?”

  “Just for a few minutes.”

  “Attention and people are the last thing I need right now.”

  Jakub tried his best to avoid the other academy students while he waited for the instructors. He’d never been friends with them at the best of times, but his stomach was wrapping itself into knots now, and he’d be even worse company than usual.

  The students passed by in groups of four and five. A couple of them, novice necromancers, had bound creatures with them – Novice Temple had his monkey, and Helena had her serpent. Four trainee warlocks hurried passed, each with their summoned demons.

  In that way, the warlock and necromancy disciplines intersected. They could both summon creatures to them and bind them. But where a necromancer’s bound creature was from the Greylands and thus couldn’t be touched physically, the warlocks’ demons were real. All too real.

  Jakub couldn’t help listening to their gossip.

  “They took her into the chambers, but I heard that they don’t know whether to bring her back or not.”

  “Why wouldn’t they?”

  “Her injuries.”

  “Doesn’t the resurrection heal them?”

  “You come back with whatever injuries you died with.”

  Now he felt like he was going to vomit. For the instructors to debate bringing Abbie back from the dead, her injuries must have been horrific.

  He retreated to his mind-palace and, with perfect recall, he re-watched Mason carrying Abbie to the academy.

  She’d still had all her limbs, and there was no sign of serious stab wounds or anything like that. What could have happened to her that meant the instructors might not bring her back?

  He stood up and paced in the hallway. What was it?

  I didn’t see her face.

  He needed to see her.

  “Don’t try and see her,” said Ludwig. “They already said you can’t.”

  “If they bring her back and she hears that I didn’t go and wait there, she’s going to think I don’t care.”

  “As long as you’re there when she wakes up, that’s all that matters. Irvine and Lolo and Henwright are performing the resurrection; don’t annoy them by trying to get in again.”

  “Damn it,” he said, sitting back down.

  Two hours later, Instructor Irvine and Madam Lolo walked down the corridor, their faces grim.

  “Is she okay?” said Jakub.

  Madam Lolo, who usually had a smile and friendly word for Jakub, walked straight by him and into the necromancy hall, leaving a perfume scent lingering behind her.

  Instructor Irvine stopped. He was nothing like the other instructors in the academy, preferring to wear checkered shirts and denim trousers to the standard robes, which he always said were impractical as hell.

  “Get into a fight in the field,” he’d say. “And see how long you last with a roll of cloth trailing at your feet. You might as well wear a bride’s wedding dress.”

  While he didn’t care about academy-issue dress, he stuck to the rules they preached everywhere else. Irvine was all about rules, rules, rules, and that was why Jakub was worried about him more than Lolo and Henwright.

  Jakub had broken field codes in his assignment. He’d made mistakes. Sure, he’d done it to survive, but Irvine was going to haul him over hot coals for it.

  But they weren’t in the inquiry room yet, and Jakub couldn’t resist asking Irvine something.

  “Is Abbie okay?”

  “You have better things to focus on now, novice. We have questions for you.”

  “I just need to know if the resurrection worked. That’s why you’re late, right?”

  Irvine gave him a smile. Jakub thought back, and he was sure it was the first smile the instructor had ever given him. Strange that he’d do it today, of all days, when Jakub’s future at the academy was in his hands.

  “You have yourself to think about, Jakub. I know an inquiry is never a pleasant experience; just tell the truth, and you can do no more. When instructor Henwright arrives, we will begin.”

  Why was Irvine being so nice? Had he decided to go easy on Jakub, given the hell he’d been through in the Killeshi lands?

  Maybe he knew about his and Abbie’s relationship, and he was taking pity on him. Academy romances weren’t banned as long as you were sensible, and maybe Irvine had a heart, after all.

  Irvine walked into the room, leaving Jakub alone outside, unsure about Abbie and about his own future. It was selfish as hell to think about himself. How could he even focus on getting through their questions? Was he going to be able to explain failing his first field assignment in such spectacular fashion?

  Screw explaining things. Only one thought kept hammering in his brain now; even if they had performed a resurrection on Abbie, there was a problem – they didn’t always work.

  Instructor Irvine had completely avoided his question, hadn’t he? What did that mean?

  Even Master Kortho, one of the strongest and most respected of necromancers, had failed a resurrection once. He’d tried to bring back Quartermaster Tomkins’s son and he’d failed, and Kortho had carried that failure with him as a weight.

  Where was Kortho now? He was supposed to be here, supposed to speak up for Jakub. Footsteps sounded down the hallway, but it wasn’t Kortho. It was instructor Henwright, and he walked by and then into
the necromancy hall without a word.

  Minutes later, a voice sounded behind the door. “You may enter, novice. We will begin your inquiry.”

  CHAPTER 5

  The three instructors were sitting behind a raised podium which had cloth bearing the academy emblem draped over the middle.

  There was Instructor Irvine, Henwright, and Madam Lolo. Two of them wore their official necromancial robes, the kind only worn for graduations or disciplinary inquiries, while Irvine was in his casuals.

  He knew that one of these people had voted against him graduating as a necromancer, one had voted in his favor, while another had sat on the fence until Kortho had talked them around.

  If he had to guess, he’d say that Lolo voted for him, Irvine said no, and Henwright was the one who couldn’t make up his mind.

  Kortho had changed minds back then, and he’d change them again today. Just this one, last time, Jakub would let his old mentor save the day. After that, he was going to prove he could do things on his own.

  He was strong enough to do that, wasn’t he? Maybe, maybe not. All the things Kortho had done for Jakub; saved him from his flesh-eating family, urged the academy to take him as a pupil rather than send him to a workhouse, let Jakub spend the holidays at his own house with he and his wife, rather than in an empty academy like the rest of the students who didn’t have families to go to.

  He’d need Kortho’s help again this one time. After that, after he got through the inquiry, Jakub would work harder than before, study more, plan more, make sure he was never in this position again. Ten years from now, he’d be the best necromancer in the Red Eye Queendom.

  If he could just get through this.

  “Take a seat,” said Irvine, “and we will begin.”

  His tone was cold now, back to how it usually was. Gone was the man who’d smiled at Jakub outside the hall.

  Last night before he fell asleep, Jakub had imagined his inquiry. What it’d be like to stand here, how he’d act. In his head, he sat confidently, he met their stares, his tone was firm and he had an answer for everything.

  Why was it that when you thought about things at night, you always over-estimated your own abilities?

  It was one thing committing to something in your head, another doing it when the time came. Because here and now, as much as he knew he couldn’t show it, he felt doubt creeping in.

  “Shouldn’t we wait for Kortho?” said Jakub.

  “Master Kortho has retired.”

  “Retired? He wouldn’t; he said he would be here.”

  “Master Kortho has suffered a lot, as you know. It is his wish that he does not attend the academy anymore.”

  “He needs to rest, poor man,” said Lolo. “His house in Racken Hills is the best place for him now.”

  “He said he would be here.”

  “This is your inquiry, novice,” said Irvine. “Should I check your bumhole to see if Kortho has his hand up there? Ventriloquist acts bring in a lot of gold, I’m told.”

  Wow. So much for the smiling, nice Irvine.

  “Instructor,” said Lolo.

  “Kortho failed in his duty, as did the boy. I find it insolent that he begins with questions about absent ex-masters. There is honor in retirement boy, and sometimes it is one last favor to a master who would otherwise have left in disgrace. This is your inquiry, and we do not expect anyone else in attendance.”

  “You forced him to retire, didn’t you?”

  “Perhaps it is better to forget about Master Kortho for now, young one” said Henwright.

  He felt their eyes on him now. Three sets, one of them accusatory, the other stern, the third pair, Madam Lolo’s, almost showing pity for him.

  Kortho wasn’t coming. Jakub needed him; Kortho was the eldest, most respect necromancer in the academy, and his words carried weight.

  Without him…

  He need to pull himself together. The truth would still carry him through this, even if without hearing Kortho’s testimony they were sure to punish him. They’d pull him from field duty for a while, maybe make him assist in necromancy classes with ungraduated students.

  Worse, perhaps they’d want to make an example of him. Make him help groundkeeper Nipper, or something.

  Whatever; as long as he got through the next hour and got away from this room, he didn’t care.

  He opened his bag, took out a bundle of papers, and set them on the table in front of him. He’d been as chronological as he could, setting events out in order of date and time, everything referenced and cross-referenced. Whatever they wanted to ask him he was ready, right down to what minute of the day he’d decided to take a piss.

  “What’s this?” said Irvine.

  “Notes about the mission.”

  “You need notes?”

  “This is an inquiry for the truth, isn’t it?”

  “This looks like a script, young one,” said Henwright. “Truth doesn’t require rehearsal.”

  So he couldn’t even keep his notes with him. Great.

  He guessed he could live without them. It wasn’t that he needed them to remember everything; instructor Irvine himself had taught Jakub mind palace techniques, and his memory was sharp and he could access whatever he needed.

  It was more that the notes gave him reassurance. He wasn’t allowed to bring Ludwig in here, and it seemed Kortho wasn’t coming, so he just needed something to cling to so he could calm himself down. And he couldn’t even have that.

  This wasn’t an inquiry; it was a railroad. They wanted someone to blame, and they’d chosen him.

  “Let’s start with Master Kortho’s injury,” began Irvine. “He was impaled by a mother wyrm’s thorn, I believe?”

  “We needed to gather soul essence, so we went hunting. We thought the wyrm was dead, but she must have clung to life. A thorn shot from her side and went through Kortho’s chest. I withheld administering restoration potion because after assessing the wound I decided that it would close around the thorn and cause more damage.”

  “So, the mother wyrm wasn’t dead before you approached,” said Irvine. “Failure to check that death had occurred, hmm. Interesting that a necromancer would misread the signs of death.”

  “It wasn’t like that. She-”

  “What of the traitor? It was a simple task; you were to recover his body and bring him to the academy so we could resurrect him and find out what secrets he told the Baelin Empire. His body isn’t in our possession, is it?”

  “He wasn’t really dead. He’d taken a pill from an alchemist, he only wanted to look dead. The whole thing was set up from the beginning. He-”

  “Let me clarify this; the traitor not only isn’t here, but he is alive and free to go back to the Baelin, or go to ground. Needless to say, we won’t find him now that he knows the eye of the queendom is on him.”

  “Are you going to let me answer one question before you start the next?” said Jakub.

  Henwright leaned forward. “Insolence won’t help your case, young one.”

  “You’re asking me questions and you aren’t letting me answer.”

  Cool it, he told himself. He couldn’t let them push him around, but he couldn’t afford to get fired up, either.

  “Then there is necromancer Ryden Renault,” said Irvine, “banished from the academy and yet he was, according to the statement you gave us, hunting for the body of the traitor, too. He offered you a bargain; if you let him go, he would resurrect Kortho.”

  “I couldn’t let Kortho die. His resurrection window was almost closed, and I would never have gotten him back to the academy in time.”

  “Duty above self, duty above love, duty above all,” said Henwright.

  “Bullshit.”

  Gods damn it. He knew he’d done it then, but he couldn’t help it; the word slipped out.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  Well, it was all or nothing now. He’d messed up, so he might as well try and get them to understand.

  “You’re telling me tha
t you would have refused the offer?” said Jakub. “You’d let Kortho die just so you could bring the necromancer back here?”

  “Ryden Renault worked with the Baelin. According to your statement, he was in a bad way; you would have been able to bring him back here so we could find out what he had told the Baelin, too. Not only that, but we would then have a dangerous necromancer safe in our mana-cells. Instead, not only did you heal him, but you let him go.”

  “And you wouldn’t have done the same?”

  It was a stupid question to ask, because he knew the answer. The academy instructors lived and breathed its duty motto, and he knew they’d have put the needs of the queendom over one of their most practiced necromancers.

  Maybe that was why, ten years from now, Jakub wouldn’t be one of the most regarded necromancer in the academy. If he didn’t feed into their bullshit, he’d never advance.

  Well, if he couldn’t repeat their mottos back to them, he’d prove himself another way; earn distinction in the field.

  Just get me out of this room, punish me, and then let me get back to work.

  “You derelicted your duty to save a friend,” said Irvine.

  “To save a master necromancer.”

  “You didn’t save Kortho for his use to the academy; you were thinking about a friend, not an instructor. Don’t lie to us, Jakub.”

  “I’ll ask you again; what would you have done?” said Jakub.

  “We will ask the questions, novice.”

  And so they did. Hours of them, each worded in a way to make the failures of his assignment look they were his fault.

  Without Kortho, without his notes, he could only answer from his heart.

  Then, when the inquiry was finally over, he hoped he’d done enough.

  “Wait outside please,” said Irvine.

  Jakub went back into the hallway and waited. It was empty now; classes were over, and the other students had gone to their dorms, where some of them would study, others would laugh and talk and play games.

  Instead, he waited for the instructors to decide how harshly they’d punish him.

  It made him sick; the failures of his assignment weren’t all down to him, and they knew it. They just needed a scapegoat so the queen wouldn’t look badly on the academy, so she wouldn’t cut their funding even more.