Necromancer's Gambit (The Flesh & Bone Trilogy Book 1)

by A J Dalton

  Nostracles wailed. ‘I am nothing! I am no longer her priest. She had turned her face away from me. I have transgressed in some way. I must have broken one of her laws.’

  ‘But why?’ Kate asked gently. ‘What laws have you broken? How have you transgressed, Nostracles? Surely there is some way in which you can atone for what you have done or earn forgiveness. Every religion allows for that, does it not?’

  ‘I do not know,’ he said miserably. ‘I am not sure what sin I have committed. That will make it impossible for me to know what I can do in atonement. And she will not give me a sign now, because she will not hear my prayers.’

  ‘Well, that hardly seems very fair,’ the Scourge opined. ‘What sort of goddess is it who abandons her priest without her priest understanding why?’

  ‘I cannot be her priest if I do not have the power to minister to those who worship her,’ Nostracles said with a breaking voice.

  ‘Then you are just like us now,’ the Scourge smiled. ‘Trust me, it’s not so bad. We manage well enough. Welcome, brother.’

  ‘No! You do not understand!’ Nostracles said shaking his head. ‘You do not know what it was to be within her grace. You do not know what heart-rending beauty I beheld every day. You do not know what wondrous dreams I had every night. Now I will be haunted by dark, morbid fantasies. I will be beset by waking horrors and have no defence against them. I have been cast into hell and will know only torture for the rest of eternity.’

  ‘Oh, don’t be so melodramatic,’ the Scourge said impatiently.

  ‘Wait, Scourge!’ Kate castigated him. ‘Do not be unkind. We cannot know what it is like for him. Nostracles, listen to me, we will find you some help. We will find a healer for your hand and a learned priest who has some insight into what has occurred here, a priest who will be able to undo all this.’

  ‘I cannot be healed. That which has been wrought by the goddess of creation upon one to whom she gave life cannot be undone by another. I am the living embodiment of her judgement, a judgement that only she can change. Leave me here to die. I have no reason to go on. I cannot live like this. Death is all I deserve.’

  ‘Stop it!’ the Scourge said fiercely. ‘Self-pity never achieved anything. If she has allowed you to continue living, then it must be for a reason. You still have her gift of life. Surely by your faith it would be blasphemy to ignore that gift. Isn’t it the priests of Shari who say where there’s life there’s hope?’

  ‘He’s right, Nostracles,’ Young Strap insisted. ‘And Brax is still out there. Your reasons for wanting to punish him are just as valid as they ever were.’

  ‘Are they? It was my attempt at selfishly revenging myself on Brax that caused all this,’ Nostracles said without looking at them. ‘Leave me here. My presence would only encumber you. It might even endanger you.’

  The Scourge turned away in frustration and shook his fist at the sky. ‘Damn you, Shakri! I know you can hear us. How can you do this to him? You know his work as a priest is his whole life. It would have been kinder to kill him than to leave him suffering like this. So help me, if you don’t mend this now, then all agreements between us are forgotten!’

  The only answer he got was the soughing of the wind. He cursed and spat on the ground. ‘No good ever came of trying to deal with the gods anyway. My only duty is to my King.’

  ‘Nay!’ Nostracles cried all but hysterically. ‘Do not let me be the cause of your railing against the gods! Do not let me be the cause of your blasphemy. I am already responsible for more sin than should be permitted any living creature. Do not add to my count, Janvil, or I will have to end my wretched life here and now.’

  The Scourge rounded on him with hatred still simmering in his eyes. His whisper was like a blade being drawn. ‘The gods will not answer me, Nostracles, so it seems I must bargain with the living instead. Are you ready to deal, Nostracles?’

  ‘If-if it will save you,’ Nostracles avowed.

  The Scourge grinned evilly. ‘You will obey my commands without question, and in return I will hold to my agreement with the goddess.’

  Much affrighted, Nostracles licked his lips and looked at Kate and Young Strap for help. Kate looked away with doubt clear on her face. Young Strap gazed at the Scourge, but as open as his face was, it could not be read.

  ‘Well?’ the Scourge pressed, standing so that his shadow fell over the trapped Nostracles. ‘Do we have a deal?’

  ‘Y-yes!’

  The Scourge leaned back, and rather than the look of victory Nostracles had expected to see on the other’s face, there was only relief evident. ‘Good. On your feet then, for we ride for Accros.’

  As Young Strap went to help Nostracles extricate himself from his blankets and find his feet, Kate wandered closer to the Scourge.

  ‘You play a dangerous game. I worry for you.’

  He looked at her sadly. ‘Aye, but it was the only way to keep him alive. I can order him not to imperil himself any further than he has to from hereon in.’

  ‘Do you think there will be a reckoning?’

  ‘No doubt there will be. There is always someone who makes it their purpose to hold others to account. And why shouldn’t there be? After all, we Guardians presume to bring necromancers to account. Why should we not be judged in our turn?’

  ‘But how is it that they judge us? Nostracles, himself a priest, still does not know the criteria by which the goddess judges him.’

  ‘All we can do is follow our hearts, Kate. I am true to myself. I am true to my King. Come the time of judgement, we can but hope that there will be comrades, friends and loved ones to stand with us and stand in our defence. Will you stand for me when I am judged, Kate?’

  She swallowed hard, remembering the dreamlike conversation she’d had with Shakri. What could she say? He noted her hesitation and nodded tolerantly.

  ‘You do not need to answer now, Kate. There is time enough. I suspect we are all tested before the gods make their final judgement. After all, where else would they find their entertainment?

  ***

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN: And ignorance being our sin

  She didn't like to think about her youth, but found she couldn't always keep her memories of it suppressed. They would find her in the dead of night when she could not always be watchful and alert, they would sneak up on her when she was daydreaming and had let her guard slip, they would ambush her when she came across a problem and was lost in thought. There were times when she thought she thought she had laid them to rest, when she had escaped them forever. But time and again they would rise from the dead to stalk her. They were an implacable enemy that left her mentally exhausted, her nerves raw and her confidence in tatters.

  It was a bitter irony that they said indwellers were born privileged really. She'd certainly never felt privileged. Sullied, dirty and sinful was all she'd ever felt. That was what she'd always been called by her mother. That was why her mother had locked her into her room from an early age. People shouldn't have to suffer such a person in their midst, her mother said. And people like her also had to be punished.

  She didn't really remember her father – he'd left when she was young. Her mother said that he was horrified at having such a daughter and that was why he had left. That was when her mother had shut her away. There was a narrow gap at the bottom of her bedroom door, through which a meagre plate of food was passed to her each day. Once a week, her mother opened the door and told her to carry out the shameful bucket of waste she'd produced because of a filthy desire to go to the toilet. She would empty the bucket down the outside drain at the back of the house and wash in the rainwater trough there. Then she'd return to her bedroom for another week.

  The house was completely silent most of the time. On some days, there were extraneous noises from the street outside, but she couldn't really make them out through the heavy, locked shutters. She didn't have much to do except read the Book of Gods produced by the temple of Cognis. Her mother had let her have it so that she might spend her t
ime praying for forgiveness for her sin.

  Every day, she would get up and turn to the first page of the alphabetical compendium. The first god in the pantheon was Aa, god of beginnings and new enterprises. He was a youthful make who always had an optimistic smile on his face. He was one of the younger gods who often went to Cognis for the benefit of His advice and wisdom. After she had closed her eyes, put her hands together and said 'Forgive me for my sin!' to Aa, she would turn to the next page and perform the same ritual to the next god.

  Her favourite gods were Aa, who was always so happy and positive, Cognis, so understanding and generous, Malastra, attentive goddess of lost causes and the sick, Shakri, so loving and beautiful, and Quixus, mercurial god of humour, jollity and laughter. They were like her family. When she had finished her prayer to Zeal, god of endings, she would spend the rest of the day making up stories involving her adopted family. She imagined whole conversations between different family members. Shakri was forever telling Quixus off, but could never seem to stay mad at him for too long. Cognis often spoke to Aa in a fatherly way. Aa would complain to Quixus about how patronising Cognis could be. Quixus would always whisper things to Aa and get him into trouble with the other gods. Malastra often tried to speak with Shakri, but the mother of creation always seemed too busy to listen.

  She wasn't always a character herself in the stories she made up, but when she was her family were always kind to her. Cognis would let her sit on his knee and would tell her about the world outside the locked shutters of her bedroom window. Quixus would tumble for her, tell her jokes and tickle her until she peed herself. Shakri would comb her hair and tell her she loved her. Aa was always coming up with some new idea or scheme for them to plan together. And so the days passed.

  Then, one day, her mother didn't put any food through the door. She'd sat crying on her bed, worried her mother might also be going without. Another day passed and then the bedroom door was opened. It hadn't been a full week yet! Her mother ordered her out with her bucket. When she got to the trough outside, she found a bar of soap waiting for her. It smelt so good that she wondered what it would taste like. Her mother told her to scrub every bit of filth and sin from her skin and her hair too. Then her mother cut her hair and tied it in a ribbon.

  'You look well enough, for a harlot!' her mother had adjudged.

  She was so happy to meet with her mother's approval for once.

  That evening, a man came to the house. Incredibly, the door to her bedroom opened for the second time that day. The man came inside and closed the door behind him. She stared at him dumbly, not remembering having seen anyone other than her mother before. He smiled at her, but it wasn't as nice as Aa's smile.

  'I have a bright, pretty ribbon for you!' he slurred, holding up a scrap of shiny, blue material. 'Would you like that?'

  'Are you my father?' she asked. 'Have you come back? Aren't you angry with me anymore? I've been praying every day.'

  The man burped. 'Whatever you like, dear. Just take off your dress and you can have the ribbon.'

  The man had hurt her a lot and made her bleed too. He'd apologised afterwards and said he'd pay extra. She didn't understand what he meant and replied she needed to pray. That seemed to upset him and he'd finally left.

  Because she was hurt, she prayed to Malastra for forgiveness first. The goddess came to her and told her there was no cure for her hurt, but that she had brought Incarnus to help. Incarnus came out of the darkness and looked down on her with great sympathy. Then he became angry on her behalf and told her what she must do.

  She pulled a piece of wood off her bed-frame and split it until she had a pointed piece about the length of her hand. A different man came to her room the next night and she asked him to lay on the bed. He did so with a hungry grin and loosened the collar on his shirt. She plunged the piece of wood into his neck, once, and then again and again, until the sheets were soaked red and Incarnus was telling her she could stop now if she wanted to.

  Then Aa was with her, urging her out of her bedroom, down the stairs, out the front door and onto the street. 'Run!' he shouted deafeningly in her head, impossible to resist. 'Run!' Pell-mell, she dashed through the dark streets of Corinus, no idea where she was going, but leaving the house far behind her.

  The Wardens found her in the mouth of a storm-drain the next morning. She agreed to go with them only after they promised not to take her back to her mother's house. They tried walking with her between them, but she was too small for them even to lay a hand each on her shoulders without having to stoop. In the end, one of them growled with exasperation and hoisted her onto his shoulders. The ride was the most magnificent thing that had ever happened to her. She could see everything forever and ever, and twisted her head this way and that to try and take in as many new things and vistas as she could.

  'What is that?' she asked in awe as they entered a large, wide area. Never had she seen so much space.

  'Palace!' rumbled the Warden who wasn't carrying her. 'King live. Dungeon.'

  A man was crossing the plaza and stopped in front of the Wardens as they tried to pass him.

  'Where are you going with that girl?' he challenged them, ignoring the growls of warning that issued from their throats.

  'Take to palace. She kill noble man!'

  'Don't be preposterous. She's just a girl!'

  This seemed to confuse the Wardens.

  'They're my friends!' the girl said. 'Leave them alone!'

  This confused the Wardens even more, for she was hauled down from her roost and thrust towards the lone man. 'You take! She not much meat anyway.'

  'Wait! Don't leave me alone with him! Take me with you two!'

  But is was too late. The man had a firm grip on her arm and the two Wardens were already moving away without a backward glance. As she began to struggle, the man gave her a shake.

  'Do you have no sense, girl? They would have eaten you. Did you really kill a noble?'

  Eaten? What was she to do? 'Stay with this man! He will not hurt you,' Shakri whispered in her ear.

  'Well?'

  'I killed a bad man,' she said calmly.

  'I see. Are you an outdweller? Not from your clothes. Where do you come from?'

  'My mother's house. But don't take me back there... please! She brought the bad man to the house. He was going to hurt me, like the other man.'

  The man crouched down so that his face was on the same level as hers. He had a rough looking face, with short bristles all over his chin and cheeks. There were flecks of grey at his temples, but the rest of his hair was an unruly, dark tangle. He had deep grooves in his face that were more than wrinkles: they defined his face with a permanent sternness. If it were not for the fact that his eyes had glittering diamonds in them, he would have been absolutely terrifying and she would have fought to get away from him, no matter what Shakri had promised. He held both of her arms, but more gently than when he had shaken her before:

  'I will not hurt you. Tell me your name, child. I am called the Scourge.'

  'I do not have a name. You can call me child... or girl... or daughter, I suppose.'

  The Scourge's voice caught for a second. 'No. We'll find you a name. How about Kate? Are you hungry? I can take you to an inn near here and we can talk while you eat.'

  'Alright. But you won't shut me in a room, will you? I've decided I don't like rooms anymore. But I like the name Kate. You can call me that.'

  The Scourge had talked to her the whole day, asking her questions about everything. He'd asked her about her mother, her room and the dead man, all questions she had expected, but then he had asked her strange questions about her feelings and opinions and what she wanted to do in the future.

  'In the future, I want to pray for forgiveness and then go to sleep outside,' she told him.

  He shook his head, but smiled. 'Kate, you lack socialisation, are happy to be alone, can kill without flinching and still have some sort of moral reference. There are other people just like you, did
you know that?'

  'No. Where are they?'

  'They are called Guardians. They sleep outside very often. They stop bad people from hurting others, just like you stopped the bad man hurting you. They are never punished and can be outside as much as they like. Would you like a life like that?'

  The diamonds in his eyes glittered at her. She wasn't afraid. 'It sound nice. Will you be there?'

  'Sometimes. I will find some good people to train you. Sometimes, I will have to go away to stop bad people from hurting others, but I will always come back.'

  And that was how she had met the Scourge. He was a good man, she knew that, but just like her mother and everyone else he started to make demands on her. Once she had become a Guardian, he was always telling her what she should and shouldn't do. She felt guilty about resenting his demands, especially as he had saved her from the Wardens, but she resented the demands all the same. Whenever he watched her training, it was like he was judging her. And the thing she hated most in the world was being judged, because she always felt sullied, dirty and sinful when she was judged. And then she would have to pray for forgiveness and wait for the bad men to come. Then she would have to start killing people.

  She shook her head. The bad memories had found her again. She felt the urge to kill people. And Shakri had said that she might have to kill the Scourge one day. She would have to kill him to protect Saltar. Saltar was everything to her. He never judged her and never made demands on her. He was a love so selfless that it made her love him with an proportionate and all-consuming selfishness.

  ***

  'Shh! By Malastra's malodorous farts, Mordius, you're making enough noise to wake the whole of Accros.'

  'Ow!' Mordius had to stifle his cry as he hit his head on a low beam in their room. 'It's not my fault. I can't see a god-cursed thing, can I? Unshutter the candle. That's better. How do you even know it's time to go?'

  'Every soldier knows that four hands past midnight is the best time to launch an attack. And how do I know it's four hands past right now? Experience. Instinct. The fact that I'm physically incapable of sleep and only have the observation of the passage of the moon to occupy me. This is precisely the sort of thing you stole me from my eternal rest for, and now you want to question it?'