by Han Yang
When a minion died, it was awful. Oskatriver would be able to kill me, and I had to remind myself he could have slaughtered me since the moment we met. Everything came down to taking risks for Z. That sweet, sweet Z.
The announcer blew a horn, signaling the end of betting. A minute later, the last markers were exchanged.
The big minotaur held up four fingers, tucked his arm in, and thrust three fingers back out. The crowd counted down and the gong rang loud.
“Three, two, one, fight!”
The cheer deafened my ears, and the stomping quaked the entire arena. The crowd roared with excitement when the three centaurs charged.
I closed my eyes, chanting, “Death is power, and I demand obedience. Death is power, and I demand obedience. Death is power, and I demand obedience.”
I wasn’t sure why I used those words, but two things happened.
I projected myself into the centaur. For a brief moment, I was the minion. I even stared at my own hands to see skeletal fingers and a forearm being gnawed on by a cat. The feeling more or less tickled my senses.
Freaky, and so cool.
I immediately retreated back to my body by wishing myself away. I had no idea of the consequences I would suffer if the skeleton died while I was controlling it directly.
Instead, I held onto the tether, controlling my minion through verbal commands.
“Rush to the jutting rock ahead and to your right,” I commanded.
The skeleton surged forward, tufts of hard terrain flying from his hooves.
An ice spell zipped out from one of the centaurs, the creation forming into a comet shaped ball.
“Jump,” I commanded, and my minion leaped over the spell.
The lead centaur became enraged, his body growing. A red magical energy bulged his muscles, creating something even I gulped at. The final centaur stayed back, creating a lightning spell from up high.
“Fling the jenix onto the back mage and then unsuppress memories,” I ordered.
Watching the skeleton centaur throw an angry feral cat had to be my favorite part of leaving Earth up to that point. The cat was pissed with a capital P. Flayed claws, snarled lips, and a shrieking battle cry gave ample warning to the lightning mage whose arms danced in mid-cast.
The jungle feline had to weigh at least forty pounds, and I believed Oskatriver’s comment earlier that they fought to the death. That centaur was committed, unable to rise a proper defense.
The lightning spell unleashed, half cast and cracking into Serriavian. The minion stumbled and faltered, crashing down.
I instantly reached out and connected to the skeleton while I heard the vicious cries of a centaur being mauled.
Minion Serriavian has suffered damage. Repair cost 12/25 Mana. Repair (YES) - (NO)
I hastily selected yes and black magic shot through the wall, besting whatever defenses the arena created. My fallen minion became obscured as billowing black magic washed over his form.
Seeing the big threat vanish, the ice mage turned on the jenix. An ice shard shot out of the ground, a sharp tip driving up rapidly.
The jenix meowed in terrible pain when the magic cracked and then pierced its body.
“Get to the jenix,” I commanded Serriavian.
I instantly transitioned into my next spell, chanting, “Death is power, and I summon you. Death is power, and I summon you. Death is power, and I summon you.”
A few things happened in a single breath. Serriavian burst out of the inky black cloud, flinging a long dagger at the magically enraged centaur.
A quick deflection avoided any damage but did put the warrior off balance slightly.
The injured centaur tried to contain spurting blood that appeared fatal.
The ice mage centaur, caught in the middle of Serriavian’s charge, tried to tackle my minion and barely failed, sending both into a tumble.
I waited patiently, the charge of my mantra and meditation surging through my very being.
Then it happened. The cat died.
I reached out and the colorful orb not only welcomed me, it purred in happiness. An offered revenge as a skeletal hybrid thrilled the feral cat.
Claiming the jenix cat as a minion will result in you earning Ostriva points. Do you wish to proceed? (YES) - (NO)
Not just yes, but oh, hell yes!
You selected to claim a jenix cat. Consume 1.112 Zorta to summon this creature as a minion of the undead. Confirm (YES) - (NO)
I waited, muttering between clenched teeth, “Get to the cat!”
The berserker centaur leaped after my minion, desperate to catch the diving skeleton. His tackle landed, and the duo fell on top of the dead cat.
I confirmed my selection, releasing a cackle because the roaring crowd was in for a surprise.
A swirling tornado of black magic dragged in the dying centaur and the ice mage. Loud groaning of the undead startled the crowd, and for a few breaths a chill frosted the air.
When the souls raised hands from the sandy terrain to consume the flesh of the jenix, they found the flesh of the centaur.
Its horrendous wailing shrieks silenced the crowd. Their cries of mercy and despair even caused my hairs to raise. We all witnessed the horrific image of the underworld coming up to claim those within its reaches.
Note, stay away from ghoulish hands plying the flesh from bone.
The berserker and the ice mage stumbled as they escaped. Large, leaking wounds revealed where the living had been mauled by the magical undead.
Serriavian hobbled out of the spell, chasing after the ice mage. His long dagger sunk into the chest of the ice mage, and the dying centaur hugged his attacker.
This confused me until a sword swept out and cleaved Serriavian’s head from his body. I watched his death in shock, not expecting to lose my minion.
The berserker cheered as I collapsed. For a fleeting moment, I saw the jenix cat leap onto the champion’s back, and I could only hope he would win the fight.
My mana exhaustion washed over me, and the prompt to revive Serriavian told me he was doomed. I didn’t have a single mana left, let alone 73 more.
“Yes!” Asha cried out, watching the battle unfold. “He did it, the battle is over. I’ll get jenix while you recover.”
“Impressive fight,” Oskatriver said. “Consume Zorta to recover. I don’t have time to watch you lying around.”
Consume .12 Zorta to recover 118 mana. -93 owed + 25 to full recovery.
I didn’t see a way to save some Z to recover to only 1. I paid the fee, knowing we had won enough Z to finally splurge a bit.
A moment later, I managed to regain my feet. Asha opened the door, and the skeletal cat rubbed the blood coating its bones onto my pants.
“Ugh, thanks,” I said sarcastically. I turned to revive Serriavian. When I reached out and connected to his body, I felt a welcoming embrace.
Warning 59 minutes until Minion Serriavian rebuild is forever inaccessible. Warning 107/25 mana is required to rebuild Minion Serriavian. Zorta will be required to reassemble Minion Serriavian. Cost 83 Zorta.
I groaned, hating having to make this decision. “Can you pay me in the next hour?” I asked.
“Yes, why?” he asked.
I sighed. “I would pay a hefty sum to rebuild the minion.”
“Interesting. I’ve never met a necromancer before, please share,” Oskatriver tried to lure out the information.
“For eighty-three Zorta, sure,” I said, joining the laugh this elicited. “One Zorta per mana I’m missing.”
“I’ll replace him personally for sharing openly. Mind you, at a fraction of the cost. Slaves are cheap, and there’s better mounts,” he said. “Let’s leave your conquered foe where he rests and give him a good death.” Oskatriver used a somber tone of respect I could understand.
“Yes, I assume you’re guiding me to go shopping too?” I asked.
“Indeed, you are not all there in the head. Best I keep you safe and ward off others who would seek to ex
ploit you in a different manner than me. Humans have massive cities and massive libraries. Same with dwarves. You can get me books from both,” Oskatriver said with a grunt.
“Of course, now I just hope this newfound wealth goes far here,” I said with a smile.
He shook his head with a mighty laugh. I found that sign to be ominous and unwelcome.
CHAPTER 21
Xastriban Market
“Define better,” I said, staring at old donkeys.
Tied to a posting hitch, three asses stood in a daze, uncaring that we even were nearby. I glanced up to Oskatriver, and he shrugged.
The mid-afternoon crowd of the market remained busy with the din of folks bartering broken by the loud boisterous cries of those selling their wares. Alien pigeons perched behind the donkeys, and the stall to our right sold fancy birds in cages that they eyed.
The large minotaur unfolded his arms and flippantly gestured. “Twenty Zorta for one of these. That’s four of these for one centaur, and they’re sturdy, easy to ride,” he said.
He had a point.
“Yeah, the centaur had hands and could catch small prey. More importantly, he could fight,” I countered.
“King Hartinger considers the centaurs allies, and we hold none as slaves, a rare treat. Your cat will catch ten times more than the centaur ever would have,” he said in an amused tone.
I could tell he was enjoying this. Every question revealed information that wasn’t likely available. A few times, the jenix would get noticed, drawing attention, and Oskatriver would shoo the curious away.
The jenix tucked between my legs, on a command of follow only. I bent down to pet the skeleton that reacted like a real cat. While I wasted time, the flow of the market continued. I couldn’t help but notice that the mares for my wagon were a quarter of the price of a single donkey ready for slaughter.
“Alright, what’s cheaper? Something has to be,” I said, feeling a bit flustered.
The large minotaur folded his arms again. His temperament seemed shorter now that the fun was over. “Slaves and their supplies we capture in surplus. Zorta is easy to come by. We do see this often with a few of our trading partners. Our costs are high because most of us have an excess of Zorta.”
Asha cleared his throat and said, “I would upgrade your necromancer rank before going to the slaves, and I agree, these donkeys would be a waste at twenty Zorta. I think you can replace Serriavian easily and come out ahead.”
“May I be paid?” I asked.
He huffed but nodded. “Wait here,” he said, leaving us with the donkeys.
Asha said, “He will likely come back and say he only managed to get five hundred. Or offer a bonus with strings. They’re shrewd, but this one is close to being a noble. At the very least, he manages a war band.”
“A division,” a voice said, approaching from the side. Jeelina the pit manager showed up with a few hulking minotaurs with her. Not that she needed the back up against us. “I have a single question and Yabo here is a truthsayer of sorts. It was reported to me that one of my kind had a slip of the tongue and you heard. I need to send a report to my superiors. Answer truthfully or die.”
“That the minotaurs are going to war? Figured it was common enough,” I said with a shrug, trying to be casual. “I know I intend to war to the south once I’m set up again.”
“You’re going south?” she asked.
I shook my head and said, “No, the intent is to go north for now to trade with the dwarves for armor and gear. I’m weak and trying to grow in power. Trading between the two cities will help a lot.”
“Honest to a fault,” the other minotaur - likely Yabo - said.
“Good, makes things cleaner. Ten lashes to Urbar and this settles the matter. You heard nothing,” she said, eying me down her snout.
As her and her escort left, Oskatriver approached with a minotaur almost twice his size. Like a wave washing onto the beach, the market cowered in fright at the mere sight of him. This new behemoth wore intricate armor with runes engraved across the dark metal.
The large weapons were two single handed axes bigger than me. This minotaur was a beast that his own people cowered from, telling me I should be worried. In a second, I realized the report of loose lips already reached superiors.
Asha respectfully bowed a half dip, and I followed the elva’s lead.
The large minotaur neared, his loud, three hoofed toes clacking against the ground of the market. His weight was so great, the stones trembles from his steps.
“Up,” he said.
I slowly stood rigid, seeing the massive minotaur mere feet away. He wore no jewelry or fancy silk. Everything was about war for this minotaur. He clearly thrilled for battle, choosing to repair his scars. It became abundantly clear that a minotaur could keep growing. His youthful exuberant smile lied about his true age, and his eyes shone mischievously - a predator eyeing its prey.
“Fetch me Jeelina,” the behemoth said in a soft tone.
“On it,” Oskatriver said, only having to wave her and her fellows over.
“I’m General Karde and you are not welcome here,” he said, staring down at me as if I were an ant.
Asha kept his mouth shut, and I followed his lead.
Yabo arrived again and the general asked, “Are you a spy for the humans?”
“I’m not. I’m on the run from them actually,” I said, looking directly at Yabo.
“Truth,” Yabo said. “He is also verified as going north.”
Karde snorted, a booger the size of my finger splattered onto my shoulder. I didn’t freak out, and he chuckled. These two things seemed to placate the initial anger of the General.
“Tell me everything you can about the humans to the south,” General Karde said.
Well, this certainly was one way to earn a whole bunch of Ostriva points. Do I hold back? No, I’ll likely have a really awful death if I do.
“A big reward if I do kind of deal?” I asked, playing the part.
If I simply rolled over, I’d probably stick out more.
His eyes squinted, not amused. I nodded in understanding and began to say everything I could. I used having to escape Tarb as my initial flight from mankind, which was true. The details went well. He mostly wanted unit sizes and how many siege engines were on walls, and then he asked questions to see my answers.
I didn’t hold back, and I didn’t lie. It became painfully clear that Tarb’s quiet days were coming to an end soon. I had shown up while this city was likely on a war footing.
Yeah, I felt like shit for squealing, but this was about my survival. If King Karn and his Dukes were smart, they’d know that a few weeks south a massive minotaur city readied for war. If not, they’d see them coming well before they hit Tarb.
I finished my tale, Yabo confirmed it, and like that, General Karde left to join a group at the start of the market. He continued to talk with what was likely military officials. Hopefully, that would be the last time I ever met the menacing minotaur.
After I flicked off the nasty slimy booger, I let out a big sigh of relief. Asha nodded at me with a wince, and I didn’t know what to say.
Oskatriver cleared his throat. “Wise of you to be forward. It is time for you to go,” he said handing me a sack the size of watermelon.
I handed it to Asha, concerned with what came next.
“No shopping?” I asked.
“No shopping, and I apologize for that. Even my power here is fickle compared to the horde’s needs. You’ve been paid in full, and I’m to escort you to where we met,” he said.
“Aw, can I buy a single donkey since we’re here?” I asked.
He smiled and said, “Interestingly enough, I was going to offer one. Will you talk me through the process?”
I nodded.
He reached down, one hand grabbing the donkey’s head, the other grabbing the frame at the shoulders. The massive minotaur moved his hands with a sudden and violent twist until the neck broke.
Crack!
“Impressive,” I said. He rolled his wrist and then pointed to the dead donkey. “Oh, right. Bit nervous.” The General still watched our interactions with interest. “The orb requires me to meditate and concentrate. If I fail, I try harder or use an incantation.”
I closed my eyes, found my center, and reached out.
“Once I’m in my central point of understanding what I am, I reach out,” I said. “Then I get an option, claim or consume.”
“Wait, before you adjust the orb of Zorta?” Oskatriver asked.
“Yes, I still see the orb floating over the donkey,” I said, seeing the essence without even opening my eyes.
“We do not,” Asha said.
“Consider me the interested one. Keep going,” Oskatriver said.
“I manage a series of prompts, and then… we should step back for this part. Am I okay to summon the undead?” I asked.
“Yes, that’s the part I need to know the most about,” he said.
“Oh, well, about that,” I said, hesitating. “I mean you might want to get Yabo over to verify.”
“That bad?” Oskatriver asked.
I frowned and said, “It’s just that I don’t do anything really. The whole struggle is getting to the claim part. The rest of the magic is done by the gods or goddess or creator.”
I shrugged, and he nodded solemnly.
“Ah, I believe you. But you’re right, they saw you damage the centaurs. This was your last test. If you were able to bring the souls from the soil and say consume an enemy army, I would have turned you into a well-cared for slave soldier.
“Instead, I see you’re weak and rely on the gods. Making you unfit for our ranks. The donkey is free, and the orbs are paid in full. Bring your replacement to life,” Oskatriver ordered, his tone and mood instantly changing.
I understood that I had been deemed worthy of a test to exploit and been found lacking. Something for the best.