The Heart of a Necromancer

by Eddie Patin

  "Do you know the other warriors from the stars?" Estren asked, his dark-grey eyebrows rising while the rest of his soft features stayed like a placid lake of fair flesh.

  "We come from the same place," Jason replied. "May we enter your town?"

  "Jason," the man said as if trying the word on for size. He leaned against his staff and smiled. "The other warriors from the stars have not returned. They departed to the necromancer's tower to the south to purge the region of the dark sorcerer and his gargoyles. We have not seen them since."

  "I've seen them since they returned," Jason said. "They killed the necromancer, but there are still lots of gargoyles here. We've come in their stead to finish the job."

  The older man took several soft and curious steps toward the three of them. His soldiers followed, their armor shuffling noisily and their spears still pointed at the sky. Jason felt a cold dread growing in his guts as Estren closed the distance. He saw that the man's white and gold robes were dirty below his knees.

  "Good, Jason," Estren cooed. "There are things I would know about you warriors from the stars. Who is the power behind your two groups that has been so kind as to assist us with the Darkness?" He spoke up and barely concealed a shrill desperation behind the next words: "Who has sent you?"

  Jason steeled himself and resisted stepping backwards. He held the man's watery, grey eyes. His mind raced, then he thought back to Jason 113's note.

  "We have been sent by the Weave."

  Estren's eyes immediately went wide and the soft jowls around his jaw fluttered as his mouth dropped open. He gasped, honestly awestruck.

  "Truly?!" he asked, then called back to his men. "Open the gate! These heavenly warriors are welcome here! Come!" he exclaimed, smiling broadly and gently grasping Jason's shoulder with one lily-white hand. "Come in, you three! Welcome to the village of New Bozeman!"

  Jason looked back to Riley and Gliath and caught the soldier smirking. The two mercenaries followed as Jason was led through the gap in the rolling gate and into the village. There were a dozen or more soldiers just inside and Jason was immediately greeted by the sight of a medieval village in various states of collapse and ruin. The houses just inside the square and lining each side of the main cobblestone road were old and mostly of a single level, built with stone bricks and clay roofing tiles. Most of the homes and other buildings were in severe disrepair. It was shocking. There were piles of rubble and broken glass in the streets, shards of shingles, and other junk strewn around in his path or on either side of the trench-ditches that ran thick with mud and sewage. Dirty, disheveled people stood throughout the town watching the Reality Rifters' entrance, all dressed in plain earth-colored clothes, their faces gaunt and their eyes full of fear.

  "New Bozeman?" Jason asked, his eyes scanning the many bewildered, unwashed faces of men and women. Waifs of children clung to mothers' legs.

  "Yes," Estren replied with a smile and stroking Jason's shoulder as if petting a cat before extending both of his arms to happily address the crowd. "People of New Bozeman!" he exclaimed. "These three warriors from the stars have been sent by the Golden Lady to purge our lands of the Darkness! Our long-awaited salvation has come!"

  There were a few dim cheers, but the villagers mostly looked on. Jason saw uncertainty and dread in their faces. They looked like a people that had seen dark times for a long while; more like shell-shocked refugees than residents.

  Before long, Magister Josiah Estren was leading them up the main street. Jason frequently looked back at Riley to see if the soldier ever had anything to say on the sly, but Riley seemed to be okay with what they were doing and constantly scanned the town, looking up at the roofs, walls, and battlements. Gliath stared straight ahead, his yellowish-green eyes occasionally darting over to an approaching man or woman as the people emerged from pitiful, broken homes to see what was going on. Gliath's human form reminded Jason a lot of the young American Indian brave from that old movie ... what was it? Jason thought. Last of the Mohicans.

  They walked through a dirty, cobblestone main street and passed houses where people hid inside looking out from within like ghosts. Pale faces watched Jason from darkness as he walked. He stepped around a pile of shattered roof tiles. New Bozeman was a wreck. The road and small front yards in front of the many small houses were splashed with dried mud. Jason tried not to look at the piles of filth in the gutters that reeked of piss and shit. Sometimes he caught the sight of bones and clumps of hair in there and immediately felt like he'd taken his modern world for granted. Easily half of this town's windows were broken, and most of the windows were barricaded with a combination of rough-hewn boards and sticks and other raw wood from the surrounding forest. There were large poles erected at every corner that looked like they'd normally hold a torch of some kind to light up the town at dark, but the wrought-iron holders were now empty.

  Magister Estren beamed as he led Jason and the others deeper into town, crossing the many smaller streets of cobblestone and alleys of dirt and garbage. They passed four golden-masked soldiers who were apparently on patrol.

  "I understand that the gargoyles come at night?" Jason asked as they walked.

  "Oh yes," Estren replied. "Every night, they come."

  "And just kill the townsfolk?"

  "They kill whoever is out in the streets, or the unworthy at the Crossroads. They kill the people, or take them away."

  "Where do they take them?"

  Estren's eyes flashed over to Jason's for a moment with a look of fear, then he smiled warmly and continued, using his staff to help him navigate around the debris in the road. "Away from here," he said. "We try to stay indoors at night. That is when you will find the beasts looking for victims."

  "Is there somewhere we can stay?"

  "Indeed," Estren replied with another smile. His heavy jowls bounced as he stumbled over some rubble then recovered. "There is a house in town that has recently become ... unoccupied. It is a large manor home of one of the town's noble families, and will be a good place for you three to sleep when you are not doing the Golden Lady's work." He paused and put a barely-touching hand on Jason's shoulder again. Estren smiled in a way that—for some reason—reminded Jason of a glass of warm milk. "And speaking of the Golden Lady's work, good Jason, I am pleased to show you our Sacred Crossroads. Look upon our offerings to the Weave—as you call her—and take delight in our love and faith. We approach now!"

  They walked on, Magister Estren leading the way with a jovial, soft grin and eyes almost sparkling, into what must have been the center of town. Two large cobblestone streets intersected—the Crossroads—at a large, ornate stone building that Jason figured had to be a church, which sat tall and imposing on one corner. There was a large courtyard between the main church building and the street, and Estren was heading there in earnest as Jason paused to take it all in. A dozen more of the soldiers with golden masks were stationed around the area, holding their spears still and pointed upwards as they stared ahead, unmoving like living statues.

  What really caught Jason's attention was a series of sixteen erect crosses—like Jesus on a fucking cross crosses. They lined both sides of both streets and decorated the intersection, each ten feet tall and surrounded by metal braziers and stacked displays covered with various mountain flowers of yellow, blue, purple, and red. There were six people crucified up on six crosses, all nearly naked save for the basic loincloths that must have served these dark ages people as underwear. They all appeared to be unconscious, and every one of them were battered and bloody. Upon closer inspection, Jason saw that they weren't actually crucified; they didn't have long nails fixing their wrists and feet to the crosses. Instead, they were all tied to the crossbeams and poles with strips of leather along their arms and at their ankles.

  Jason felt a cold rush of fear gust through his veins. This place was brutal. It was crazy, and these people had to be mad from starvation and bleak survival.

  Stumbling forward slowly, looking at the prisoners around him
, Jason eventually stopped in the middle of the intersection. He stood at the center of the Crossroads, feeling his gorge rise in his throat. What could these six people have done in a society like this to be strung up? In such a terrible existence, what would count for criminal behavior?

  Magister Estren climbed up to the slightly-elevated square of the church then turned, his soft face smooth and beaming, raising both arms (staff in one hand) as if to present the scene to the Reality Rifters.

  "What do you think, Jason, Riley, and Gliath?" he exclaimed with a voice like butter. "Are you pleased?"

  Fucking crazy.

  As the robed man smiled and awaited a response, Jason saw several thin forms emerge from the church dressed in deep blue robes and wearing glossy, black masks—a lot like the soldiers' except for the onyx-like finish. When the figures silently glided over to stand behind Estren, Jason realized that they were probably women. He made out slender, soft hands with long, curving fingernails.

  Jason looked up at the prisoners. Five of them were men. They were similar-looking to the men in town: haggard and bearded with a look of starvation combined with the roughness of living a tough life outdoors. Most were dark-haired, one blonde, and one red-haired. Jason suddenly noticed that the blonde man wasn't unconscious. He stared at Estren with eyes full of smoldering hatred, stuck fast by his arms and ankles to the cross, but brimming with defiance. The other men were unconscious, or nearly-so. They seemed so exposed and vulnerable to the elements. Even with the sunshine, it had to be terrible to endure the cold gusts of wind. What would happen at nighttime?

  The sixth prisoner was a young woman. She was also awake and stared at the street with her face stony and brimming with both fury and resignation. As Jason looked over her face and long, dark hair, she glanced down at him for an instant. He saw that her fierce eyes were green. The woman was nearly naked just like the others, dressed in only a loincloth. Jason scanned her tan, athletic form for as long as he dared, his eyes lingering on her breasts and dark nipples until he was embarrassed and aware of all of the village's eyes on him. Estren and the townspeople were watching.

  Jason looked away from the woman's body, feeling his cheeks and loins go hot.

  "Well, warriors from the stars?" Magister Estren said. Jason looked back at the old man. "Are you pleased with our offerings to our blessed Golden Lady?"

  Jason eyed the Magister and the several wraith-like blue-robed figures with shiny, black masks collecting behind him. He saw the sunlight gleaming off of the golden masks of the many soldiers around them and felt a cold dread growing in his guts.

  Royce Wither's words echoed in his mind again.

  Nearly all insane...

  Chapter 13

  "Who are these people?" Jason asked Estren, his voice a little too small.

  Jason's eyes flicked back up to the nearly-naked woman strung up on the cross. He tore his gaze away and looked across the intersection to Magister Estren again, who now had seven thin figures in dark-blue robes with glossy black masks standing behind him. The blue-robed figures moved strangely as if they were afraid, yet melodramatic; like they were on psychedelic drugs, waving their bodies and slender arms like dancing hippies.

  Magister Estren cleared his throat like it was full of slime then smiled broadly with his too-smooth face. Friendly wrinkles swam around his watery grey eyes.

  "These poor souls are enemies to the Golden Lady's Communion," he replied gently. "They are rebels; the remnants of the old government that oppressed this village before."

  This whole thing was creepy as hell. Jason hated the town already. He felt bad for the townsfolk. He found his eyes darting up to the young woman's exposed breasts and slender curves of her stomach and narrow hips again. Jason felt like the whole town was watching him, Riley, and Gliath. His friends stood behind him, silent and confident. Gliath looked up at the six people hanging above them, his long black hair tossing in the mountain wind.

  "Did you free the people of this town from the old government?" Jason asked.

  "Indeed, I did," Estren replied, "with the grace of the Golden Lady. Nearly all of the people follow the Golden Lady—the Weave, as you put it, Jason—but there is always an outlaw element in every town, isn't there?"

  "How long has the ... ah ... Golden Lady taken care of New Bozeman?"

  Jason suddenly felt Riley's elbow in his side.

  "Just here for the gargoyles," the soldier muttered through a smile.

  Riley had to be picking up bad vibes. Jason certainly was. But what could he expect? That other mercenary had said that the whole village was crazy. Riley was reminding Jason to focus on the mission before he got involved in whatever mad politics were going on here; before he said something stupid and got them in trouble.

  Estren cleared his throat. "We ah ... we have led the people of New Bozeman by the grace of the Golden Lady for just about three years now. Tell me, Jason of the stars..." He smiled broadly. "Are you pleased with our offerings?"

  Looking down at the cobblestone street, Jason eyed a small leather shoe that had been abandoned right in front of him. It was a child's shoe. There was a cough from a villager in the shadows of a nearby building with broken windows.

  He felt at the home focus key around his neck.

  "Uh, yes!" Jason exclaimed. "These crosses and ... stuff ... look nice. They'll please the Golden Lady, I'm sure. Now, let's talk about the gargoyles."

  Magister Estren smiled in response, then frowned with cheeks like pale bread loafs before replying. "The gargoyles," he said. "Well, the other warriors from the stars slew several of the beasts, but there are many more. They come from the necromancer's tower to the south."

  "Do they only come out at night?" Riley asked suddenly.

  Estren shifted his gaze from Jason to Riley then slowly smiled in a way that sent a shiver up Jason's spine. "Yes, warrior Riley. They come with the night. They are the Darkness. Each and every night for years now—since before the Soloster family's betrayal to the people—the Darkness comes at night with the mist. I have never seen a gargoyle here during the day, save for ones that have been slain."

  "Has anyone ever killed one other than the warriors from the stars?" Jason asked, wondering suddenly if they could be harmed by these peoples' medieval weapons.

  Estren's mouth shriveled into a worried shape. For just a moment, the man's eyes flickered over to the dark-haired woman on the cross, then back to Jason again. An instant later, Estren's face was smoothed into a gentle smile again.

  "No," he said.

  Jason looked up at the woman again, trying to keep his eyes off of the curves of her naked body.

  "Who is she?" he asked. His heartbeat immediately increased. Jason half-regretted asking the question right away, remembering Riley's warning.

  Estren's smooth smile turned into a frown again and his grey eyes seemed to grow darker.

  "Come closer, Jason," he replied. "Let us talk like civilized people—not shouting at each other over the streets.

  That was weird.

  Jason looked back to Riley. The soldier scratched his beard and shrugged. Jason's AK was starting to feel a little heavy. He flicked the safety back on and put the muzzle up on his shoulder, then closed the distance until he was looking up at Estren's raised platform from the gutter. The soft, robed man seemed to shudder and grow frightened as if Jason was getting too close. Jason stopped with Riley and Gliath right behind him.

  Riley started scanning the roofs of the buildings around the Crossroads. Jason peered at the blue-robed figures behind Estren, who all stared down at the three of them from behind their black masks as if afraid. The seven strange women—they had to be women—seemed to hide behind the Magister.

  "Well?" Jason asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

  Magister Estren composed himself and smiled again, taking a deep breath.

  Of course, they're women, Jason thought, watching the black-masked figures sway behind the Magister. They were extremely thin, and all smaller t
han the old man. Unless the seven blue-robed people were not human, they had to be small and slender women ... or children.

  "That female prisoner is Morgana Soloster," Estren said quietly. His eyes darted between them and her, and he spoke like he was issuing a hushed warning. The name leaving his lips seemed to pain him. Jason recalled the name—it rang a bell in his memory. "She is the last member of the Soloster family—traitors to the people of this village. It was her father Roland who ruled the people with an iron fist." His words rose in volume as he spoke and Jason realized that perhaps the man gives sermons to the townsfolk from where he was standing, raised on that corner of the Crossroads. He stood above the three of them like a fancy, white toad, looking down, and seemed to swell with pride as he went on, no longer hushed. "That woman's family founded this town over a century ago, drew settlers in from the land all around this valley, then they lived like parasites until the people of New Bozeman had nothing left to give!"

  Jason looked up at the woman named Morgana only to see her staring at the street, her face dark and unflinching. Estren went on.

  "Five years ago, the Darkness came like a blight on the people." The Magister was now talking to Jason as well as half-addressing the townsfolk around the intersection. "The Golden Lady's Communion was still a small congregation then, persecuted by Roland Soloster and forced to worship in secret. The gargoyles came from the necromancer across the valley, though we did not know their origin at the time. All we knew was that the Darkness came at night, and with it came death and abduction."

  "So," Jason said, "the Soloster family ruled the town?"

  Estren smiled and continued. "Until they betrayed the people of New Bozeman!" he exclaimed. "Two years after the Darkness began—as we prayed to our Golden Lady and the Communion grew—the eldest brother of the cursed Soloster family departed with several town soldiers under the guise of hunting down and destroying the necromancer and his army of gargoyles. Owen was his name—a traitor through and through—and he deceived even his own men as he rode to the south. Owen Soloster did not battle the necromancer that day. Instead, he sought out the foul sorcerer and made a bargain with him. For Owen: riches, a plot of faraway land, and safety. In exchange, he gave the necromancer the lives of his soldiers and full reign over the village to plunder and murder as he pleased.