Draihan’s arm was acting up again. On cloudy days such as this old wounds began to ache. For a man like Draihan, it meant enough individual aches all over his body. He assumed at least Ribold must be getting on better. Müller only seemed menacing, it was the rest of the world that was actually malicious. As Draihan walked around the path and the mill came into view what he saw shocked him.
Ribold’s neck was red, his head swollen, and his pained expression seemed as if he could barely stand straight. He was standing next to a new coffin. While it was very plain looking it was functional. Draihan carefully measured his tone, seeing the boy in that condition triggered all the fatherly aspects Draihan had to suppress.
“What happened boy?”
“I finished the coffin.”
“Damn the coffin boy what happened to you?!”
Ribold bit his lip, “Nothing sir.”
Draihan switched from concerned to seething anger, “You lie to me boy?!”
Herr Müller walked out of the mill and spoke up, “He was attacked! It was a drifter, one of mine. It was my call to hire him, my responsibility your boy is like this.”
Draihan looked back to Ribold and eyed him over, “So that coffin yours?”
“Yes Master.”
“You want me to bury you in it?”
“No master.”
“Well I guess you can’t hurt that bad.” Draihan tossed Ribold a sack. “I expected you to succeed so I brought you these. Open it and enjoy them. I need to speak to Müller alone.” Ribold opened the burlap sack and inside were six soft warm piltz. His expression immediately changed from dour and grizzled to childlike again and he happily sat down to eat them. Draihan walked inside the mill with Müller. After some time Draihan walked out and Müller followed while carrying a large sack.
“I was making these should you succeed Ribold!” Müller said excitedly. “Look here! A net so you can catch birds and fish. Maybe even make a thrall of them eh? And as an apology I’m giving you this loaded stick. You might not be ready for weapon rhabdomancy and weapons just yet but this stick will help you walk until you recover.”
“What did you mean the stick is ‘loaded’ Herr Müller?”
“I hollowed out the knob at the top and poured in molten lead. Whack a priest or a skelly with this and it’ll crack his skull! As you improve maybe you’ll take up rhabdomancy and summon deadwood like me one day.”
“Thank you for saving my life Herr Müller.”
“Don’t thank me for feeding the pigs. All I did was give him your spot on the menu.”
Draihan spoke up, “Until next time Müller, let’s drink your finest cider, I’ll bring the pretzels.”
After saying goodbye Draihan and Ribold took to the roads back towards Todt Stadt.
***
One of Müller’s day laborers walked in secret through the dark forest. In a small clearing was a small humble encampment. As the laborer approached the tent cautiously Della Rovere’s voice boomed out behind him
“I trust you have something to report!”
“Holy God himself! Did you need to do that!”
“I can’t let my spies believe they can actually spy on me.”
“I’d never.”
“Take God’s name in vain?”
“My sincerest apologies!”
“Well it’s better than pulling a dagger. Say five hail mothers later and I forgive you. Tell me something useful and I’ll lower it to three.”
“I found the boy.”
“Where?”
“He came to us nearly a week ago but I could not make a move. His master is Donatien Gagne of the Unholy 7. They’re training him to be a necromancer!”
“The Unholy 7 is terrible news indeed. What else?”
“The boy was attacked. A criminal day laborer tried to strangle him in his sleep.”
Della Rovere did not look amused. “Did he live?”
“Yes, he managed to fight him off long enough for Müller to pull a Müller and feed the man to the pigs.”
“Where is the boy now?”
“Donatien Gagne returned to pick the boy up today. They are on their way to Todt Stadt as we speak.”
“Good work. Continue monitoring Müller and the comings and goings of his clients. You’re doing God’s work.”
“Thank you Your Eminence.”
“Oh and forget the hail mothers as I have already forgotten your sins.”
“Yes. Your Eminence.” The spy bowed and left.
As he listened to the spies quiet footfalls disappear into the natural sounds of the forest Della Rovere’s hand trembled. His mind raced in anger, Those damned fools! Dare to harm that boy?! He’s the most vital figure of our era and they let him get strangled like a common animal! I won’t let them keep him as they please. I’ll have to persuade him. It may actually be easier after this. Hold my son. I’m coming to save you.
***
“When we go in boy, you should do the talking.” Draihan rasped.
“Huh why me?” Ribold asked.
“Men must learn to speak truth to power.”
“I don’t get it but okay.” Ribold grasped the door handle to Master Vol’s chambers and pushed it open. As the wood creaked and grown Ribold saw in the corner of Vol’s office was Alfso at a desk with a massive open tome of strange beasts.
Alfso looked up and smiled, “Ribold! You’re here!” The small effeminate boy stood up
and ran to embrace him. Behind him Vol sighed and closed his own tome scattering dust about. The old man rose to his feet, “And what have you two to report?”
Ribold stood tall and marched forward with gusto, “Apprentice Ribold and Master Draihan reporting in! We’re here to inform you that my training is going well and that I made my first coffin under the tutelage of Master Müller!”
“Is that so?” Master Vol pondered aloud. “Well you wouldn’t be much of a necromancer if you couldn’t at least carve out your own coffin now could you?” Vol looked over Ribold’s head at Draihan, “Anything to report?”
Draihan spoke dismissively, “Ribold had an encounter with a bad man but Müller resolved it. Ribold instinctively used his necromancy in battle against a far more dangerous foe and survived despite being ambushed. The rest I’ll report once the kids are out of the room.”
“I understand. Alfso!”
“Yes Grand Master?”
“Leave us. Take Ribold with you, you both have the rest of the day off.”
The boys bowed in unison, “Thank you Grand Master!” and ran out the door. Draihan could hear Alfso excitedly asking Ribold about his near death encounter as their voices faded down the hall.
“So? What do you have to tell me?”
“There’s more church forces mobilizing and searching for this place. I encountered a Zweilhander flame sword and its user knew who I was.”
“How’d that go?” Vol asked empathetically.
“Won’t be my last scar,” Draihan said blankly.
“Someone tried to kill Ribold. Was it the church?”
“I doubt it. From Müller’s and Ribold’s descriptions the man was an ordinary psycho, no capacity for holy flames. Though Ribold said the man raved about the priesthood, in Ribold’s words, ‘It sounded like the priests hurt him.’”
Vol sighed exasperated, “We know what that means, poor dreck never had a chance at life by the sounds of it.”
“Müller found Ribold badly beaten but having survived the man’s assault through quick cast summonings. When Müller offered Ribold the opportunity to take his life Ribold refused.”
“Well at least we know he doesn’t take after his mother.”
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
“So far,” Draihan chided. “Had Ribold had better summons this conversation may be different. But his summons are few and low quality. I want him to practice more and take a trip to acquire better specimens for combat.”
“That brings me to a task I have for you. Do you remember Fafnir’s Tomb?”
“Not since I was your apprentice. I first met Katharsis there. Even then she was a firebrand.”
Vol smiled wistfully, “Yes I suppose she was.” His tone changed, “Now I want you to take Ribold there. Alfso too.”
“Ribold’s little playmate? He studies the school of Chimera right? Judging by that book over there.”
Vol waved a finger, “Not just any chimera, my readings of his potential place him leagues beyond those who once mastered the chimera. I intend to groom young Alfso to be the father of the resurgent Chimera school.”
“Can’t be hard to do. The rest are nearly all dead or scattered. That’s why you took that boy on right?”
Vol smiled, “I never was good at chimera necromancies. But I’ve dabbled in it just the same and kept what few skills in it I have sharp so I could pass it onto someone more worthy. Little Alfso is that someone.”
Draihan crossed his arms moderately annoyed this conversation had dragged, he preferred to be out working or sleeping in a grave. “And Ribold?”
“Alfso may one day restore the school of chimera, but Ribold will either preserve or destroy necromancy itself. We have to educate him carefully and prevent the church from stealing him away.”
“If you’re so scarred why didn’t you just kill him?”
“Even I wouldn’t kill an innocent child regardless of his destiny. Besides when I read him I learned a few things.”
“Like what?”
Master Vol looked at Draihan with serious wide eyes, “I don’t think I can.”
***
Müller’s net splashed into blue waters of the Rhine. Ribold stood at the shore with his hands on the rope connecting himself to hopefully a few meals worth of fish. He winced as the afternoon sun reflected off of the shimmering waters. Alfso was just down the stream gathering firewood and occasionally playing with Ribold’s deformed chicken. A finger tapped Ribold on his right shoulder and as he turned quickly to the right Draihan’s eerie face appeared to his left.
“Aaaaagh! You scared me!”
“Did I?”
“Yeah you did! How am I supposed to catch some fish when I’m screaming?”
“Don’t scream.”
Ribold’s face flushed red with embarrassment and anger for walking into that one. “Maybe you shouldn’t scare the one person trying to get food!”
“Maybe the one person whose job it is to get food shouldn’t raise his voice,” Draihan said lowly.
Ribold sighed, his master as undefeated as ever, “What do you want master?”
“Some fish.”
“Can I ask a question?”
“You can.”
“Why can’t we catch one fish and just keep resurrecting it as we eat it?”
“That has been attempted before. But it doesn’t work well.”
“Why not?”
“For one thing you need to be skilled, unnaturally skilled at reviving the specific thing you wish to eat.”
“Too bad I can’t resurrect piltz.”
“Then it’s not the candy you should practice but your teeth.”
“How do I do that?” Ribold asked completely serious.
“Well as your teacher I can start by knocking all of yours out.”
“That’s what I thought you’d say. So has anyone ever successfully resurrected their own food?”
“If you eat it all then the corpse has essentially become shit and your chances are nearly zero. But there was a necromancer called Piso the False.”
“Did he do it?”
“Piso was a ruthless man from back in the early days before the Romans became... ‘holy.’ He killed many people including those who didn’t deserve death. Eventually his people turned on him and he fled into dangerous and desolate lands. It’s said he lived there for years surviving off the same handful of animals he caught on the way.”
“What happened to him?”
“Well Piso was a lot of things but not a fighter. He was eventually found, arrested, and he killed himself just before he was fed to starving lions.”
“Did he leave any of his necromantic teachings behind?”
“No but the principal of his skill was really basic. It’s just that few think it’s worth pursuing a skill that requires so much effort and practice just to eat the same thing over and over again.”
“It does sound useful though. Especially if I could resurrect piltz.”
Draihan smiled at Ribold and pointed to the net which seemed to be moving a bit. Ribold began tugging and Draihan helped him pull the net ashore with 8 small fish inside. It wasn’t going to be a gourmet meal but it was better than hard tack. As Ribold smiled and shouted at his biggest catch yet Draihan put his finger to the Ribold’s lips and said quietly, “Silence!” In the distance they could hear Alfso shrieking. Draihan tossed the net of fish next to the nearest tree and stormed down the river in the direction of Alfso’s cries.
Ribold panted as he caught up to find Draihan staring at a shoe and a pile of firewood. Ribold’s broken little zombie chicken still lazily walked in aimless circles.
“What happened?! Where’s Alfso?!”
“Taken,” Draihan said gravely.
“By who?”
“Slavers. I told him not to go too far but still, I was careless.”
“Can we save him?” Ribold asked choking up in a mixture of fear and sadness.
“We will save him. And I’ll need your help,” Draihan said firmly.
***
Alfso sat behind bars in a prison wagon and watched as the bandits drove them towards the Tomb of Fafnir. He chose not to fight back for now, and the slavers didn’t seem to realize that he was a necromancer. He overheard them mention a bounty for a certain scrawny boy with a sharp nose. Alfso froze when he overheard Ribold’s name. Behind him a gravelly voice called out.
“And who are you friend?”
Alfso turned and saw a half naked boy a few years older than him, muscular but emaciated and covered with scars. He was bound by numerous chains and couldn’t move. Alfso gasped at the sight of him. His head was covered by a tied black bandana that extended down to his eyebrows. “I’m,” Alfso thought to himself, not well known enough to be important so not worth lying over, “Alfso. Who are you?”
The rattle of dozens of chains filled the air, “Name’s Chakken. You’re pretty cute. I bet you’ll sell quick.”
A chill ran down Alfso’s spine. The last thing he wanted was to be popular with the kind of men that bought little boys. Master Vol himself had warned him to be careful. Still, he thought, I need to keep calm. Analyze the situation. Ribold and Draihan will be looking for me. I’ll need to be ready to exploit any openings and escape. As Alfso thought of a response a slaver rode closer towards Alfso’s cage,
“Fucking Lord! You really look like a girl. You’re not a princess runaway by any chance right?” Alfso bit his tongue and remained silent. The slaver turned to Chakken, “So we got a difficult one eh?”
“I think he’s just scared.” Chakken replied.
Alfso turned to the bound boy, “Aren’t you their prisoner or something?”
Chakken smiled maniacally, “I only exist to receive suffering. And believe me, I know how it’ll never get better. Especially with boys that look good in dresses.” Now Alfso’s tears started welling up. “See, useless but adorable, just as they like them.” The slaver walked up to Chakken and slapped him in the mouth with a sharp echo.
“Listen here you little shit. Don’t go breaking the merchandise, and that includes his will to live. We can’t make money if he decides to bite off his tongue.”
“Come on Viti. He may surprise you. Look how I turned out. No matter how many times you guys try, you never broke me yet.”
“That’s because you’re a little devil,” the slaver turned to Alfso eyeing him up and down, “But I can tell, this one’s weak. He’ll sell fast, break fast too. But some of our clients like that.”
Alfso trembled at Viti’s leering glare. He hadn’t fully submitted himself to despair just yet. But his chimera weren’t strong enough to fight off everyone. And for now in a horse driven cage several feet from the ground the best he could do is summon a chimera within the cage with him. And he couldn’t be sure if his chimera could break the lock, much less fight off a dozen men and escape without getting himself hacked to pieces or shot to death with arrows trying to run. So while he was very intimidated, he knew he had something that they didn’t know about.
Just then a shadow cast itself over Alfso and his spine tingled. Above him a dark cavern entrance swallowed their caravan as they entered the tomb.
“Where are you taking me?” Alfso asked trying to hide the fear in his voice.
“You’re just a bonus. Alfso, apprentice to Master Vol. We’re here for Twilight Witch’s son. And we’ll have our prize.”
***
Draihan knelt down with Ribold in the bushes outside Fafnir’s Tomb. He growled, “On one hand it’s most fortuitous that they took him to our destination.”
Ribold shifted a little and felt a chill about this place, “Do you think he’s ok?”
“They either aim to sell him or sacrifice him, but if they really wanted to do it right they’d wait a few days for the new moon and carve him open in absolute darkness.”
“Wait, the new moon was yesterday.”
Draihan shook his head exasperated, “Well, he’s probably ok.” He placed his hand on the damp ground and a little narrow box emerged from the earth. Inside was a banded centipede rife with black and gold colorings and small gaps in its shell exposing the rotten mush that was once its internal organs while alive. The creature crawled rhythmically up Draihan’s arm and Ribold visibly squirmed. Draihan whispered to it with the care of a concerned lover and then lowered his hand to the ground palm first, allowing the centipede to march dutifully with it’s hundred pointy legs down his arm towards the tomb. Draihan held his breath as a 100 rhythmic pinpricks gently marched off of his flesh and through the foliage to infiltrate.
“Watch over me boy, I’m going to view the tomb remotely.”
“What happens if they spot you and crush you?”
“If they’re that good, run and tell Vol everything. Until then we should be okay.” Draihan assumed a cross legged position and balanced himself as best as he could. His eyes rolled in the back of his head and he took a shallow gasp.
Draihan’s mind was filled with the senses of the centipede and the blur of its eyes. He found Alfso hidden deep within, along with the other scents. It seemed Alfso was one of two prisoners. The guards were mostly small fry and patrolled the tomb. Three of the bandits however seemed different, Draihan reasoned they must’ve been deserters. Some of them spoke
“You think they’ll come?”
“They’ll come. We were told as much.”
“Why’s he so important?”
“Just keep your mouth shut and don’t ask questions.”
“But if he really is her son.”
Draihan felt hands clasp around him and felt a wave of terror. Dying in a summon was usually survivable but always traumatic. He heard distant yelling and realized it wasn’t the centipede but Draihan’s body. Ribold was scared and shaking Draihan. As he blinked away his visions from the centipede he saw behind a shouting Ribold was a man with an axe. The man swung past Ribold at Draihan and Draihan instinctively reached out and caught the axe. The momentum of the sharp blade aimed to crush his skull was embedded deep between his middle and index fingers bifurcating Draihan’s hand. Fighting through the pain Draihan summoned the energy to force his hand to continue moving and enclosed around the axe while his free hand chokeslammed his attacker into the ground. Draihan looked dispassionately on with his left hand bleeding with an axehead embedded within and singlehandedly strangled the man to death. Ribold grimaced at the sight as the man kicked and sputtered before going limp. Then he smelled it. The man must’ve defecated himself in his final moments. Draihan immediately summoned him back to life as a thrall.
“You killed him.”
“And so I did boy.”
“Why’d you bring him back?”
“To lower their guard. While far from a perfect resurrection this quick and dirty variant should be enough to deceive at face value and get me close enough to strike.”
“What about your hand?”
Draihan looked at the axe sticking through his now healing palm with disgust before ripping it out. A bone came loose and fell to the ground covered in bits of bloody flesh and Ribold vomited without hesitation.
“You done boy?”
“I guess I have to be.”
“Good because we’re going in at nightfall” Ribold produced a fish. “What is that?” Draihan asked incredulously.
“It’s a fish.” Ribold said filled with self satisfaction..
“I can see that- What’s it doing here?”
“I brought it from the stream.”
“Why?”
“At first because I was hungry and was hoping we could eat it, but then...”
Draihan really wasn’t in the mood for games and this was getting silly. He glowered at Ribold and spoke with slow seething deliberation, “Then… What?”
“There’s a stream flowing from under the tomb over there. When you told me about Piso I thought we could eat most of the fish, then use it to scout in the tomb for us.”
Draihan stroked his chin thoughtfully, “A fish thrall? It’s uncommon but not inherently difficult. It’s useless for fighting though. It’s worth a try. We’ll eat this one tonight and then you can try remote viewing through its eyes.”
“So… You’re saying it’s a good idea?” Ribold asked with pleading eyes.
“I’m saying I deem it worthy of a trial.” Draihan said coldly before turning away to set up a camp far enough out that they wouldn’t be spotted. The idea was stupid on paper, but Ribold had proven himself to be talented. Draihan hadn’t taught him the particulars of remote viewing via a thrall but it would be a valuable lesson even if it failed.