by G. Akella
He had come upon the mass grave of the bandits that had been hung in some obscure barony a few hours after arriving in Helstaad via a random portal. The criminals' bones proved to be the perfect material for a summoning, and the summoning itself a mere formality. He was unlikely to ever return to Ahn Kulad, and if he did, it wouldn't happen until the institution was under new management. All Rynec had to do now was wait—wait for the one he had summoned to answer his call.
The day Bolo died, he barely made it back to his dwelling, and realized that he was dying. The pain rending his body was intensifying by the minute. He had barely enough strength to finish off the remains of the water left in a cup on a bedside table. He didn't make it to the bed, passing out immediately after. But the pain persisted even through loss of consciousness. He was aware that he was lying on the timeworn wooden floorboards, and that the front door he was facing was open. Aware that he wasn't capable of the slightest movement, or even so much as a moan. Hazy images floated before his eyes. Images of horrid monsters, his father with his throat slashed trying to tell him something... And then all he saw was Baron Isaec's smirking mug. And when Rynec realized that death's embrace was mere moments away, he heard the Call. Somebody infinitely far from him was attempting to reach his fading consciousness. It was a tin spark, a faint ray of light in the darkness engulfing his consciousness. Rynec reached for it desperately, touched it and... immediately fell into darkness.
He was awoken by the foulest of stenches. He jerked, realized that he was bound, then drew a heavy sigh and slowly opened his eyes.
He was in a small, well-lit room. The stone walls were cracked in places, with iron clamps jutting out. The furnishings amounted to a cot in the corner, a blue magic lamp and a wooden chair to which he'd been strapped with leather belts.
When Rynec saw who else was in the room with him, and finally realized where he'd landed, he felt a chill. Standing before him with his arms folded and head slightly cocked, was a disavowed—only they wore gray mantles with that specific cut. He'd been to the Chaste Square once before for an auto-da-fe, and remembered well the garments of the three being led to the scaffold. If nothing else, he'd always had good memory.
Those who had disavowed the true Light served the two Dark Gods, brothers Vill and Syrat, whose names mothers everywhere invoked to frighten children into behaving. Theirs was the most powerful and organized cult serving the Dark Gods in all of Erantia, with the adepts drawing power by torturing and putting their victims to death. The cultists were perpetually hunted and executed, whether by hanging or burning at the stake, and yet people kept disappearing. And so the invisible war continued until the moment Erast the Great proclaimed himself king and put a bounty on their heads.
Seeing that Rynec was coming to his senses, the disavowed threw back his hood and spoke with a pleasant baritone.
"My name is Urgam! Master Urgam! Welcome to my humble abode, young man!"
His face was entirely ordinary, even handsome in some indiscernible way. With a neatly trimmed beard, well-defined mouth and an even gaze, he hardly resembled the monster from the tales spun by raconteurs in the inns all over Vaedarr. Yes, Rynec was afraid. Terribly afraid. But letting one's fear show was a surefire way into a torture chamber. As Bolo used to say, "Your fate will be decided by the strong, and the strong despise cowards."
"Is this what you call welcome?" he replied, glancing at his bound limbs while trying to keep his voice even. "I suppose my notions of hospitality differ from yours."
"That is for your own good," the man said without changing his tone. "You're about to see why."
The disavowed pulled back the sleeves of his mantle and put a hand on his wrist.
"This will hurt," he warned.
The next moment, the serpent tattoo on his wrist moved, yawned, then quickly slithered from his wrist and onto the youth's strapped arm, and Rynec shuddered from the pain that followed, as if a thousand white-hot needles had been driven simultaneously into his skull. His body arched and, despite himself, he screamed on top of his lungs.
"Relax, it's over now," Urgam put his palm on the young man's forehead, and he felt the pain slowly receding. "This is cairat. You'll be able to tame one yourself someday."
"There will be a 'someday' for me?" Rynec wheezed with difficulty.
"I'm sure you've already realized there are only two ways out of this room," continued the disavowed. "One of them is rather unpleasant, but the other will open a world of possibilities for you."
"Will I... will I need to torture anyone?"
"And what is so bad about torture?" the disavowed arched his brow and smirked. "For some sentients, a torture chamber is the only shot at securing a good rebirth after death. So, for some, torture is the kindest service you can offer. But to answer to question, no, you personally need not torture anyone. There are many paths to Power, and you can travel any one of them, procuring it any way available to you."
Without waiting for an answer, Urgam freed his wrists, then stepped aside and clapped his hands softly three times.
"Bring me a chair," he commanded to a six-and-a-half-foot-tall gorilla who appeared in the doorway. Then he turned to Rynec and said, "And a flask of malise for our guest."
"What was that thing you did?" the young man asked, rubbing his numb hands.
"Cairat is a totem and your protection against your own Gift. It will help you to find yourself, and it'll be your keeper. And I will be able to observe what happens to my pupil in the early stages of his apprenticeship."
"You... you mean to take me on as a pupil?" Rynec asked in surprise as he accepted the flask.
"Why not?" the disavowed shrugged. "A necromancer whose Gift has awakened without any outside assistance deserves our undivided attention. But that's not the point." Taking a seat in the chair that was brought in, Urgam peered intently into Rynec's eyes. "Soon, I will explain to you what you're going to have to do. Drink the malise—it'll restore your strength and anchor your Gift. Drink, then tell me about yourself."
And Rynec told him. About himself, about his father's death, about his travails and the hatred consuming him. Why hide anything from a man who intended to be his teacher? Once the story ended, Urgam got up and started pacing around the room, hands clasped behind his back.
"It's so much more interesting than I could have imagined!" he said musingly, then turned toward Rynec and added:
"So, you know how to pick locks?"
"Yes, virtually any locks," he shrugged. "Except, perhaps, for the magical kind."
"No, the magic is something else entirely..." Urgam continued contemplatively. "But, I have to say... It's as if Master himself sent you to us!"
"Just what is it you would have me do?" Rynec asked warily.
"Every one of us is always ready to act. All you need is motivation and the right payment. Let's take you, for instance," the disavowed looked into his eyes and smiled. "What would you be willing to do if in return you would get the chance to kill your mortal enemy?"
"Everything!" Rynec answered without a moment's hesitation. "I would die for that chance!"
"There's no need for dying," Urgam shook his head, then looked around the room dubiously. "You'll stay here for now. G'Larnus will bring you food and books. Don't leave the room just yet—you're not ready. I will call for you when the time comes."
He would spend three days in the room. He was fed well, and the door wasn't locked. The one book the disavowed had brought him talked about how to control one's Gift. There were exercises, formulas and diagrams. Rynec gave his best shot at making sense of it all, but failed miserably and gave up. Everything would be explained in due time.
He felt his burgeoning Gift as a warm ball in the upper section of his stomach and in the tingling of his fingertips. The sensations were pleasant and somewhat frightening at the same time. He was itching to try something similar to what he had managed back in that alley, but his prudence prevailed every time. Strangely enough, he remembered perfectly well what he
had done then: how he drew Power from himself and poured it onto his enemies. He knew that, if need be, he could do it again. Or at least he thought that he could.
Time dragged painfully slow, and his questions accumulated. At some point he even began to suspect that his new mentor had simply forgotten all about him. But, as with all things, eventually there came an end to his waiting.
He was summoned on the morning of the fourth day. G'Larnus walked into the room, fixed the guest with a heavy look, uttered a simple "Come with me, brother!" and walked back out at once.
They took a narrow, poorly lit corridor past four locked metal doors, then made a right and went down a wide store staircase, stopping before a double-leaf steel door. One of the leaves bore the images of a serpent eating its own tail.
"Go, the master is waiting," the disavowed gave him a gentle nudge in the back. He wasn't going to enter.
The door screeched, and Rynec found himself in a spacious rectangular room with a high stone ceiling. Blinded momentarily by the bright magic lamplight, he blinked to regain his vision, then took a few steps forward and froze in his tracks. In the center of the room stood a broad metal table, on top of which lay... Baron Isaec. Completely nude and strapped tightly with wide leather belts. Next to the big table stood a smaller one, on top of which lay a variety of instruments the purpose of most of which Rynec couldn't even begin to fathom. There were knives with straight and curved edges, saws, curved drills... The sight of these implements of torture sent shivers down his spine, though he was standing on the other side of the table. But then all alien thoughts were readily displaced by hatred.
He took a few more steps, then turned to Urgam, who was standing off to the left, attired in a cloak with a hood thrown over his head.
"He's all yours," he said curtly, gesturing at the victim. "Do whatever you want with him."
Rynec nodded, took a deep breath, walked briskly toward the table, and peered into the eyes of his father's murderer.
"Do you remember my father, scumbag? Or Ekim?" he asked, not recognizing his own voice.
The baron mumbled something unintelligible in response. To be fair, it was hard to speak clearly with a belt stuffed in your mouth. But Rynec hardly cared about hearing or understanding him. Snatching the biggest dagger off the table he could see, he screamed "Die, bastard!" and drove it right into Isaec's heart with all his might.
The Power that poured into his consciousness hurled was overwhelming, but he kept his footing. Putting his palms on the baron's chest as he thrashed in agony, he kept perfectly still, feeling the life force escape Isaec's body as the viscous blood flowed in abundance. Everything was over after about a minute. Rynec wiped his hands on the rag lying on the table, took a step back, and turned to his teacher once more.
"What a waste of such precious material," the other said with a hint of reproach. "One must approach the acquisition of Power with cool judgment, but I suppose that would be too much to ask of you today. That said," he walked over to the table, casually examined the baron's corpse, and turned to Rynec. "I hope you understand, dear pupil, that there's no turning back for you now?"
"There was no turning back after that alley behind the inn," Rynec spoke hoarsely. "As for Power... I remember you saying, dear teacher, that torturing a victim might help them toward a better rebirth. And that wasn't something I was prepared to offer this scum of the earth."
"Logical, if unexpected," the reproach in the teacher's voice had given way to surprise. "You're smarter than I gave you credit for. That is good." He glanced back at the table, then fixed his pupil with a searching gaze. "Should you have need of any of his body parts, now is the time to remove them. If not, I need you to come with me. It's time you've learned what you have to do."
Chapter 11
Urgam's chambers reminded him of old Raino's back office, the food merchant his father used to send him to with orders. A massive writing desk framed by six guest chairs, and a painting depicting some city's skyline on the wall. Only there wasn't a single window here. Then again, there couldn't be any windows in the catacombs—and Rynec didn't doubt for a second that they were currently underground.
"What do you know about Ahn Kulad?" the disavowed asked after his pupil settled into the chair offered to him.
Seeing blankness in Rynec's eyes, Urgam sighed and took a seat behind the writing desk.
"All right, then listen."
He interlocked his fingers, raised his eyes, and began his story.
"May it be known to you, dear pupil, that the science of necromancy can only be mastered by the human race. Though dark mages may be found among dark elves, drow and even orcs, none of them are necromancers. As of today, at least. The science of necromancy arose in Karn when Celphata, the Goddess of Death and Rebirth, found herself in need of assistants to hold rituals for the deceased. After all, only human beings bury our dead the same way our ancestors were doing throughout the ages. The other races have their own rituals. Even the elves, who commit their dead to the earth as we do, consecrate them to the Great Forest at the time of their burial, which, in turn, sends their souls to be reborn.
"The Goddess of Death bestowed the gift of necromancy to the chosen few representatives of the human race, and so the Gift has been passed down by right of succession since. This is why all necromantic initiations are conducted under the supervision of teachers and family. The Gift does not awaken independently outside of extremely rare cases, but it has with you. This used to be considered impossible, but today several such examples are known."
"Wait. Are you saying that the first wave of the disavowed served Celphata? But today she and her followers are our enemies!"
"Indeed," the teacher chuckled bitterly. "Death and the Goddess of Death are not one and the same. Providence has put Celphata in charge of the Great Sequence of Rebirths, and she doesn't like it anything awry transpires in her domain. Death comes in many forms, and the way a sentient meets it determines both their next incarnation and the amount of time their soul lingers in the Gray Frontier. Our Master and Teacher has revealed to us this truth many centuries ago. The souls of sentients who die a torturous death fall out of the Great Sequence for a while, only to resume the cycle after their cleansing. Celphata and her adepts may not like it, but that's no reason for us to disavow our purpose!" Rising from his desk, Urgam walked around it, leaned with his elbow and gazed upon his pupil with a smile.
"We are called the disavowed precisely because no one has been able to get us to disavow our purpose," he said with undisguised irony. "Yes, the methods we employ to serve that purpose elicit hostility and odium from the mindless masses, but we aim to make this world more pure! And we will succeed! No matter the cost!"
Did Rynec believe his teacher then? Yes, he did! Just as he believed him now. Urgam's words weren't in conflict with the words of that priest of Light. Furthermore, his father used to tell him that everyone in this life pursued their own purpose. Mortals, as well as gods... Only Rynec was in no hurry to commence with the mass cleansing just yet—once he cleansed the world of seven particular nobles, he would revisit the issue. And if a couple of hundred servants of the Goddess of Death were to land in the Gray Frontier in the process, would that be so bad? Everybody ended up there sooner or later, anyway. That much he knew for certain.
"Come, Myrna," the necromancer touched the snout of his bonehound, and set back out on the road, his thoughts returning to the events of two months prior.
"But I digress," Urgam continued in the meantime.
Arms folded over his chest, the master gazed at the wall painting contemplatively, as if some profound revelation was hiding within.
"Ahn Kulad is a castle erected by the ancients in Helstaad back in the Dark Ages. It was chosen by Celphata's servants to teach those like you—neophytes who have completed the first initiation. You must enroll there, infiltrate the repository of artifacts, find and carefully examine Hel's Rune Disk, then get out to Helstaad and meet with Master's messenger."
"Silence! Don't interrupt!" Urgam cut him off at once. "You will undergo your initiation only after your task is completed. It will be conducted by the one you will meet in the Great Cemetery. This is an unthinkable honor, pupil! If you prove yourself worthy, you will be handsomely rewarded! "There is a small town named Togota on the southern border. There you'll find a mission of the Goddess of Death's adepts. Tell them everything, omitting only our meeting and, obviously, what happened with Baron Isaec. Say that you managed the initiation yourself. I will put a mental block on you to conceal this information from others, and I doubt that our enemies would summon a mental mage all the way from Rovendum just to test the words of a neophyte. You will remember everything, but the information will be inaccessible for anyone who tries to read your mind."
"What about the soldiers? And the people at the inn? They all died by my hand!"
"So? The soldiers attacked you first, triggering the initiation by killing your friend. Everything that followed was the result of your losing control—something you can hardly be blamed for. The fact that you spared the lives of that woman and her children speaks in your favor. Finally, I'll have you know that Celphata's adepts aren't at all concerned with the lives of others."
"All right," Rynec nodded as he tried to digest it all. "You mentioned something about an artifact repository? I don't suppose getting inside will be a simple task?"
"Just a regular lock and four phantom guards that obey only Kiyaret, Celphata's high priest," Urgam shrugged. "During the Svaedan Riots they did turn to dust three top-notch sorcerers. However..." the disavowed removed the rectangular silver chain off his neck and handed it to Rynec. "This is Ark's Mirror. I found it two years ago in the ruins of Nihd Gaal. Our enemies don't have any idea of its existence. When worn around the neck, it will protect you from being spotted by the Higher Undead for ten minutes, and the lock you should handle with ease. "Remember! Don't put on the amulet until you're at the entrance to the repository. And don't you dare touch anything once inside. Your job is simply to examine the runes on the disk! And you won't be allowed inside until the fourth month of your training, after receiving the quest to summon a pet. After examining the runes, get out to the cemetery under the pretense of looking for a pet, and do the summoning. The cairat will help you do it."