by Steve Thomas
He climbed to the top of the ziggurat and watched the horizon for smoke, in case Valmi had sent an army of Templars after them. He saw three plumes, one to the south where Castle Maldon stood and two in the northeast. None were extinguished by noon, so it was unlikely that any was an army camp. Valmi wasn’t close. He could take some solace in that and focus on the more immediate dangers.
He didn’t see Caeva again until nightfall. She stumbled alone out of Orlume’s chamber as if she were drunk, babbling about spirits. Grellok clambered down the steps to rush to her side. “I see them,” she said. “They’re everywhere, walking about. They love this city.” He grabbed her arm to support her and guided her down the rest of the way. “Watch out!” she shouted. “You’ll bump into them.”
Grellok froze in place. “What did he do to you? Did he cast a spell on you? Make you drink a potion? Where is he?”
Caeva only smiled and wound him around an invisible path through the wandering ghosts. Grellok patiently listened to her ravings as she pointed out one spirit after another, like a child describing her imaginary friends. “This man was a mason and built one of the tombs out in the woods. She was a baker, and in her old age moved to the necropolis to bake bread for offerings. That was the king who decreed that no living man who stepped foot in the necropolis could ever leave.” And so on in an endless stream of trivia.
After an hour, she stopped at an ivory chair and shooed away the body seated there. She climbed on and was soon asleep. Grellok stood guard over her until she awoke again, violently retching, Orlume’s foul potion spewing from her mouth. A puddle of coagulated blood and bile grew at her feet, mixed with ash and chunks of bone.
Grellok wanted to shout. He wanted to demand to know what evils Orlume had forced down her throat. He wanted to pick her up and carry her out of this place.
Instead, he held back her hair until her stomach was empty.
He passed her a water-skin and she drank deeply. When the skin was empty, Caeva looked him in the eyes. “I know what you’re thinking, but I have to do this. I have to know why Delvae died, and how I’m involved. That’s the only way out of this.”
“There are other ways,” said Grellok. “I don’t trust this necromancer.”
“You don’t trust anyone.”
Grellok shrugged. He couldn’t argue with that. “This is dangerous magic.”
“More dangerous than my father? Orlume is teaching me to defend myself. Watch.” She pointed at a passing ghoul. “You, this man is threatening me.” Immediately, the ghoul drew its rusted dagger and advanced on Grellok. “Stop,” said Caeva. “Leave him be.” The ghoul groaned and resumed his patrol.
Grellok kept his gaze fixed on the ghoul as it shambled down a road. Monsters who obeyed orders were still monsters. How could he trust them? “Orlume could have told them to obey you, to trick you into staying here. You aren’t a necromancer and you shouldn’t become one.”
Caeva raised an eyebrow. “So this is an elaborate ruse? Orlume has a city full of corpses to play with. He doesn’t have any reason to toy with a pair of travelers. You just don’t want to share the burden of defending me. You never did.”
“I’ll never trust anyone else with you.”
“And that’s the problem. You could leave me behind and run away from my father. Orlume won’t stop you. My father will forget you. What do you gain from staying with me? You aren’t the only one who can keep me safe.”
Was she asking him to go? No, Caeva would never dismiss him. She needed him almost as much as he needed her. She must have misspoken. She was confused by some after-effect of Orlume’s potion. He swallowed his pain and said the same words he had told her the night in the tomb. “My queen, I am sworn to protect you.”
“You’ve always treated me like a spoiled, helpless princess who couldn’t survive a trip to the latrine without you.” She scoffed, harsher words on the tip of her tongue, then softened and hung her head low. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that.” She took him by the hand with a mischievous glint in her eye. “I want you here.”
With that, she led Grellok to the top of the ziggurat and reminded him of why he would never leave her.
He awoke early and surveyed the sky-line. The same three cities billowed their smoke into the air, to Grellok’s pleasure. That meant he was correct to assume they were cities. But there was a fourth. It rose from the south, beyond Castle Maldon. It tainted the sky until an hour after sunrise, then vanished. That could only mean a camp, but whose? He couldn’t know. He could only fear the worst, that Valmi was descending upon the forest to scour it for any sign of Caeva.
How could Grellok hold this necropolis against an entire army? Caeva was right. He was only one man, and still wounded from his fight the day before. He couldn’t keep her safe alone, and he couldn’t convince her to leave the necropolis and keep running. She needed more than a lone bodyguard, no matter how loyal.
Grellok spent the morning in quiet reflection, his eyes locked on the southern horizon until Caeva sidled up and hugged him around the waist. He stroked her hair and said, “I saw a campfire. Your father may be coming this way.”
She frowned. “None of this makes any sense. Sometimes I think you’ve been making up this whole thing just to get me to run away with you.” She laughed as if she had told a joke, but there was something else in her tone, an undercurrent of sincerity.
Grellok ignored that. She didn’t mean it. After all that had happened in the past few days, denial would come naturally and he was the easiest target. He wouldn’t engage her suspicions. “Are you sure you can control the ghouls?”
Caeva cocked her head to the side, surprised by the question. She considered it for a moment. “Yes.”
“Then practice it. Work with Orlume and learn to command them well enough to fight for you.”
“I thought you were against that.”
He was, but her safety was more important than his scruples. “If your father follows us here, the ghouls are the best defense available.”
“I know,” said Caeva. With that, she descended to Orlume’s chamber to continue her lessons.
Over the next week, Grellok spent his mornings hunting and foraging in the woods. He would return by noon, when Caeva and Orlume emerged, Caeva to pursue her studies alone and Orlume to roam the necropolis. The necromancer fancied himself its caretaker and spent his afternoons rearranging the dead, repairing furniture, and mending buildings, often with a retinue of ghouls to help. The ghouls carried out any task he assigned them to completion, then froze in place until summoned or given new orders. Neither Orlume nor the ghouls ever acknowledged Grellok when they crossed paths.
Grellok didn’t engage Caeva, for fear of distracting her or saying something that might weaken her resolve. Some days, she emerged from the tomb in the same delirious, drug-addled state as the day after her first lesson. Others, she was so exhausted that she collapsed and slept just outside Orlume’s doors. Most often, she retreated into one of the hundreds of mausoleums and locked herself inside. Grellok watched it all, just as he watched the skies for any sign of Valmi’s army. He climbed to the peak of the massive ziggurat each night, holding vigil over the necropolis until he could no longer fight sleep.
As the days stretched on, Caeva began training more and more with the ghouls. At first she claimed two as a personal retinue, walking with her as she wandered the grounds. Then she added more and more. She practiced commanding them to move in formation. She sent them into the forest to drag back deer and wolves, which they bore into Orlume’s chamber to add howls and screams to the nightly lessons. She bid them to spar with one another, first in pairs, and then in squads. She became their master, and they obeyed her every whim. Grellok bore witness to all this as campfires blinked in and out of the sky, never approaching the necropolis. Had he let fear and suspicion overpower his wisdom when he assumed Valmi was coming? Had he led Caeva down the path of necromancy for no reason? Was she was really any safer surrounded by those monst
ers? But it was too late. Caeva’s course was set, and Grellok could only watch.
And then Caeva went too far.
Grellok was in the woods eating a freshly-picked apple as he checked on his various traps and snares, when he heard the familiar snarling and shambling of Orlume’s ghouls. He snaked through the trees, edging closer to the source of the noise.
There were two of them walking abreast along the road of bones, with no regard for the branches and brambles along the sides of the path. They carried a man, one arm slung across each of their shoulders. He was battered and bleeding. One of his legs was bent the wrong way and some of his fingers were missing. He wore a torn leather jerkin bearing the Three Points of the Convergence.
Grellok was tempted to launch himself at the ghouls and take the prisoner for himself. He could question the man and set him free before he saw the dead city, rather than subjecting him to the dark magics of the ziggurat. But Grellok had fought these creatures before. He knew he had no chance. Instead, he followed from a distance.
The captive soldier begged and pleaded as they dragged him onward, but the ghouls carried him home with single-minded purpose. They dragged him through the corrupted forest and across the desecrated grounds of the necropolis. They pulled him through a park for the dead, where Orlume reclined amongst a trio of corpses posed as if having a picnic beneath a barren tree. He met Grellok’s eye for just a moment, then turned back to his companions. “Well, I see Caeva has invited a guest for the night, but I dare say she doesn’t have the right. Still, we mustn’t complain. The lady wouldn’t care for that one bit.” Grellok raised an eyebrow at this, but left the old necromancer to his mad games.
At the foot of the ziggurat, Caeva stood outside waiting. She smiled at the ghouls as they threw the broken man to the ground. His mangled leg twisted in the fall and he passed out from the pain.
Grellok stepped forward. “Is this man here for practice or for torture?” he asked.
She smiled, a hollow gesture beneath her tormented, sleepless eyes. “The dead here can only tell me so much. I require sources closer to my father.”
“We could have hired spies or bribed soldiers,” said Grellok. “You don’t need to do it this way.”
She laughed. “My dear Grellok, it was your idea to come here. You told me to take command of the ghouls. And you draw the line at a prisoner?”
“I was wrong. Your father has no idea where to look for you. The danger has passed. You don’t—”
“You told me you saw a war camp. Just like you told me the necropolis was safe. What else have you lied to me about? Are you really hunting when you go skulking about in the woods, or are you out plotting to sell me to my father’s enemies? Or did this soldier come to make a deal with you to hand me over? What did he promise you?” Where were these accusations coming from? Grief? Fatigue? Grellok should have made her wait to begin her training with Orlume, should have given her a chance to mourn her sister. If her mind was muddled, it was his fault. He had to slow her down before she dove further down this path.
“This man is innocent. I never spoke with him, and the only promise your father ever gave me was of a slow death if you ever come to harm.”
“Don’t fool yourself. He’s your enemy now, just as he is mine. After what he did to my sister and after you abducted me, there’s no returning to him unless you really want that slow death.”
“And what about your sister?” Grellok pointed at the man sprawled on a stone step. “Do you think he’s the path to finding out why she died?”
She shrugged. “He’s the first step. If he doesn’t know, he can tell me where my father’s forces are. Each man I question will bring me closer to the truth and closer to true safety.”
So this was only the beginning. Hordes of ghouls raiding the countryside, snatching soldiers from their camps. That would only attract unwanted attention and betray her position. “Safety? You’re sending out demons to abduct your father’s men. How long before he follows one back? What if the next one is soulbound directly to our father and lets Valmi see through his eyes? You’re telling him where to come for you.”
Caeva smirked. She pulled a knife from her belt and dragged it along the length of her arm. Blood dripped and the ground rumbled. Grellok spun to see ghouls emerging from all corners of the necropolis, streaming from mausoleums, filling the streets, and forming rank in the ziggurat grounds. She had a legion, an army of demons to rival any mortal army.
Caeva sheathed her blade and crossed her arms all without even flinching at the pain. “Yes, he’ll come for me. You put this in motion, Grellok. Don’t interfere again.”
She was lost and it was his fault. Grellok dropped to his knees. “Caeva!” But she had nothing more to say to him. She twirled and waved a hand over her shoulder as she slid into Orlume’s chamber. A ghoul grabbed the captive soldier by the feet and dragged him inside.
Grellok never found sleep that night as he held vigil from atop the ziggurat. The air was full of screams and snarls and shouted questions, until finally it all abruptly stopped.
Caeva did not emerge from Orlume’s chamber the next day, but the soldier did, walking uneasily on his own legs, dripping a bloody trail behind. He was taller now and more muscular, his leather jerkin groaning and tearing with his every motion. His body was a mass of bony protrusions. He marched straight along the road of bones with a dozen ghouls at his back. Grellok watched all this until the creature vanished among the trees.
That soldier had shed his life because of Grellok’s fear, because of Grellok’s ill counsel. He pictured the old Caeva, the lonely, dutiful girl he had grown to love. He had watched over her for years. She had welcomed him into her bed. He had saved her from her father. And now, thanks to Grellok, she was a monster who slaughtered her enemies and transformed them into demons.
In the days that came, the ghouls cycled in and out of the necropolis like ants collecting food. They returned with soldiers, villagers, craftsmen, and merchants. Each body was brought inside the ziggurat, and each became a misshapen monster who ventured out for new victims.
Grellok watched from atop the ziggurat, only leaving his post to collect food and water. Hunger was easy to ignore in the face of Caeva’s ever-growing army, despite his own withering strength. He looked down on Orlume with a newfound hatred as the necromancer went about his tasks like a humble groundskeeper. Orlume had to die, and soon. It was the only way to save Caeva, to put a stop to her growing madness. Grellok kept a close eye on him, learning the necromancer’s schedule, plotting his demise. The schedule was easy to ascertain. Orlume was systematically replacing all the doors on all the mausoleums. Each day, he commanded the ghouls to work on a few doors, and they cooperated to gather lumber and complete the task. Then, he would wander off to while away the hours toying with corpses. He was an easy, predictable mark.
Orlume was committed to ignoring Grellok. He thought himself safe in this necropolis. He thought that Grellok wouldn’t dare attack a man who commanded an army of ghouls. That was his weakness. It only took one good strike from a mace to kill a man, and Grellok would accept whatever came next. Caeva wasn’t the only one willing to sacrifice herself to achieve a goal.
When the day came, Grellok hid on the rooftops and watched the ghouls drag in Caeva’s daily batch of victims. One was a burly man with scorched clothing and an eyepatch, most likely a blacksmith. The other was a boy with more than a passing resemblance to Caeva. One of Valmi’s bastards, perhaps? Was she turning on her own half-siblings now? He had waited too long.
The plan was simple. He would wait until Orlume issued orders to a batch of ghouls, then he’d drop from the rooftops, leading with his mace. Orlume would die before he even knew Grellok was nearby. For the sake of moving silently, he had to leave his boots and armor behind. He stood barefoot in a padded tunic, his weapon being the only metal on his person. He felt naked.
The mausoleum he stood on was among those Orlume had repaired the day before. The necromancer stroll
ed over to inspect the work. He swung the door open and shut a few times, rattled the latch and the hinges, then nodded appreciatively and wakened his retinue of ghouls. He set them to work on the next few buildings and left them to their task. Predictable.
Grellok followed as long as he could. Most of the mausoleums were built so close together that he had no trouble walking across the rooftops. When Orlume turned a corner, Grellok prepared himself to strike.
Orlume was beneath him now. Grellok was poised to leap down and fell him, just as he had the boy on the stairs at Castle Maldon. He hesitated at the thought of that boy, who had done nothing wrong except wake up and wander out of his chamber. Did this necromancer, this groundskeeper deserve the same fate? Had he not also disapproved of the abductions?
“I know you’re up there,” said Orlume. Grellok froze. The plan was foiled. He could never defeat the necromancer alone, except by surprise. “You don’t have to stay on the rooftops. My ghouls won’t bother you.”
Grellok watched Orlume’s blank face. Just how aware of Grellok’s intentions was this necromancer? Was this his way of giving Grellok an excuse to be on the rooftops, one that didn’t carry ill intent? Was he truly as oblivious and amiable as he tried to appear? Or was this a trap, an attempt to lure Grellok down into the maws of his monsters? The necromancer’s face betrayed no secrets and he called up in a calm voice, “Come down from there, please. I want to discuss Caeva.”
Grellok dropped to the ground. His plan was already scuttled. There was no need to add to any suspicion Orlume might already carry. “The lady speaks for herself.”
“She does, and it’s caused both of us no end of trouble.” At last, some emotion crept onto the man’s face. It wasn’t rage or fear, but rather regret. “I shouldn’t have trained her. She has the blood for necromancy, but not the heart. People think necromancy is all about power and knowledge, but I only ever wanted to provide comfort for the dead. This is my home and I want to see it restored, but Caeva…she’s using her powers to fuel a reckless quest for vengeance. Every day, she demands new ways to use magic to oppose her father, to hurt him and steal his secrets.”