Oh, shit! Christoph now paced in front of his own corpse. “This isn’t good.” He whispered to himself, but the voice in his head felt more familiar. Why did I do that?
The answer wasn’t obvious for him.
A dragon desires a horde of treasures, knowledge, and power. He was doing just that.
Undead often cared little for the wellbeing of life in general or the consequences of more uncivil actions. He had acted rather empathetically while retaining a self-serving nature.
Humanity desires a great many things. So many, in fact, it is often difficult to discern what one man may strive for while another man looks on in disgust.
Christoph had gone through each group’s emotional array in a few moments, yet his newly undead body registered no exhaustion. Only his mind did… and what remained of his human soul.
His claw now clutched a small wooden totem. He paced and looked it over with hopes of hearing something—connecting with the entity he’d dreamt of in the time between life and death. After there was no response and his tail began swinging farther from side to side, he dropped his hood and tried to pull the leather necklace over his head.
Sadly, due to the sudden increase in body mass and sudden possession of horns, he wasn’t able to wear it. Dammit. He then began to rummage about the study where all the papers and tools were. Eventually finding a longer, thin strap of leather, he used his claw to cut open the necklace and tie the ends to this new piece. Making it considerably lengthier, the dragonkin was able to drop it over his horns and head so that it ended up hanging closer to his stomach than his heart.
Good enough.
Then he turned back toward the emptied room where the making of potions, performing rituals, and magical studies had once occurred. Now, this place felt like an empty tomb adorned with the trinkets and bobbles of a madman. Christoph didn’t understand what the vials were for; let alone the twisted glass tubes that ran from one vial to another or the oddly fashioned metallic tools that almost seemed purposefully built to be useless.
“What now?” Christoph’s deep voice growled as he peered over the area. “Guess I’m king.” A shiver ran all the way from his neck to the tip of his tail. “Not exactly the glory I’d sought.” He shook his head and returned to his own corpse. “What do I do?”
He waited quietly for the festering body to respond. He couldn’t quite stand the scent of himself and had to move away. It was fairly deep and chilled for flies to be swarming, but other bacteria had begun the decomposition.
“Anyone there?” He called toward the doors while trying to hold his breath. I can’t just leave me here. After a few moments, the door opened a crack and two goblins peeked inside. “Yes, please. I have a job for you.”
The two moved through the door quickly. They were both well built for their size, fashioned with leathers and small-game pelts, and had unique discolored hair styles. The one on the left had one tooth that jutted from his bottom jaw up over the upper lip. The right goblin had wide eyes almost like a child receiving a gift.
It was the right that spoke first, “Yes, Master?”
“This corpse.” Christoph looked at it with disgust and longing. “I want to keep it. Please do what you can to preserve it. I’d like to have a casket for it placed within this room where it can be kept safe.” When the goblins both looked at him with questions beginning to form in their minds, he leapt in with more. “I am considering new magics and it would be useful.”
“Right away, Sir!” The right goblin spun and began to hobble off.
Christoph nodded to them both, but he didn’t see how the left goblin stared a moment longer. This goblin, Gem (pronounced with a hard G), glanced at the corpse of the rotting human boy with disgust. It wasn’t shared by Christoph in that this goblin looked toward the human form as lesser—a bold position for a goblin. He nodded and departed with his more energetic companion.
Once the doors were closed again, Christoph began considering his next moves. I have to get home and check on my family. He took a moment to remember that night in the oceans of grass. There was the pain that remained in his memory of being broken by a mad wizard’s spells. There was the suffering of watching his brother lie motionless beside him. Now, there is the pain of the unknown and the pit in Christoph’s stomach as part of him found no empathy in the situation. Death is death, states the cold and the forgotten.
Christoph moved toward the table he’d previously placed his book on. He looked over some of the notes and found them of little use in his ignorance.
This. This is my way out. I can read it. At the very least, I’ll be able to harm them and me on the way out. He reexamined the “Acid Arrow” spell he’d failed at perfecting on his first attempt. Scales around his hand were still damaged and peeled away from the flesh due to his failure. It doesn’t even hurt. Flexing his hand, he saw the skin split open slightly and no blood flow out.
I’m a monster now.
This thought, more than any other, caused him great grief. How could he go home? How could any accept him? What would he do with his life but live in a place surrounded my creatures and nightmares? The future seemed bleak as he clenched his fist and slammed it onto the table.
“No!” He shook his head to erase the thoughts. “There has to be a reason. I’ll protect them. I can still do that!” His free hand clenched at the small bump beneath his cloak. He released the totem and began flipping the pages of his filled tome.
“Inspect!” He called forth the magic that he’d just recently learned. There has to be more in this information. The first leveled class that came into view was “Wizard: Level 77”. Christoph stopped the information and checked on the numbers. It seems that most of the higher leveled classes and proficiencies had gone down a level. The lower leveled abilities and groupings didn’t seem very affected. “Shit!” Christoph growled as his tail swung wildly behind him.
I might be in the king’s body, but that doesn’t mean I have his abilities or skills. He looked down to the sword at his side and the book in front of him. All of this amassed wealth and material, and the lad had troubles knowing what to do with it. I never even learned how to “Combat: Parry” correctly. Christoph pulled the sword slightly out of its sheath. That noble could have shown me more. He was rough, but I learned a lot.
Christoph then got an idea.
“It’s easy! I just need to train!” He smiled at the thought of how he’d had his head hit by Sir Nodure time after time. It had hurt like crazy, but he figured he could take it now. “Now I just need to find where or how.” He started to look around at all the seemingly valuable materials in the room. “This probably wouldn’t be the best.” Speaking to himself, he walked about the Sanctum Mortem trying to see something worth testing his might on.
There was that one rack against the wall that was currently empty, but he felt breaking such a nicely made item for little-to-no reason was a bit distasteful. “Where would I be able to go?” He paced about the pillars in a large square.
“Anyone there?” Christoph called toward the door. Corallan did say he trained with this wizard. I’ll scope it out first and see what he’s like. Again, the door opened slowly. This time; however, it was a different goblin that had taken up the post of the two with duties commanded of them. He glanced in nervously. “Yes, you. Please bring Rasho here.”
“Rasho…” the goblin looked around a bit confused. Snapping his fingers, he spoke out without thinking. “Did you mean Sashro, my Lord?” He was smiling, but once the words were out his smile morphed into a worrisome expression.
“Yes! That sounds right.” Christoph spoke a bit louder than he’d believed as he agreed with the name. “Sashro. Could you call him here for me? I must discuss something with him.”
Returning to his newly acquired book, Christoph began preparing a mental list of which spells he’d like to work on first. The lower tiers of spells would be far simpler for him to master… or at least, he’d hoped. One spell of a higher level should be prepared as well so that he could attempt to display himself in the manner that would surely be expected.
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I’ll play it off the same way I did with Corallan if I need to. Christoph cleared his throat a few times and practiced the way he spoke. “I’ll need your help.” He sounded a bit more formal than he’d hoped. “Sashro, I need your assistance.” It felt weird with the low voice and trying to make it sound like an order, but he also felt strange assuming just what sort of relationship there was prior to the body switch. The goblins seemed fearful. Was this guy violent with his subjects? It didn’t feel that far off… Christoph remembered how quickly the Surton Spire’s wrath fell on the people below.
He hadn’t waited that long before there was a single, loud knock on the doors. Christoph looked up from his book hoping his preparations would be enough to keep him in the clear. “Enter!” He called over with enough confidence he pumped a fist beside the table in celebration.
Swinging the right door open, the hooded figure stepped into the room. From the distance, between the pillars and the risen altar, Christoph could see the man’s shoulders lift slowly as he took in the air. An audible, drawn-out sniff of the atmosphere was followed by a reluctant exhale. “I’ve missed the scent of brilliance that has saturated these walls. Thank you for allowing me to return after these long days in your absence.”
“I never left.” Christoph cocked his head a bit with his lips trying to refrain from pulling back a smile. How am I to act? This might have been a bad idea.
“Of course, my Master. But I am afraid it was three days that your voice went unheard. It must have been incredibly difficult.” The man was walking around the pillars to join his king at the tables in the back. He is approaching with familiarity; unlike the bug that rushed at me. This guy isn’t making my spine tense. “I never doubted your victory, my Lord. Merely, I was surprised as the extra guards you’d created and your personal troop of undead all collapsed on that first day. I was sure that they would have been useful protection in addition to the already heightened status of The Spire.” The man was now in front of the table.
His voice was smooth, yet some words came out with a bit of a lisp. Occasionally, he coughed with the dry air of a crypt long abandoned by sunlight. Christoph could only see part of his face because of the hood, but it was apparent there was a scar that warped the left side of the man’s mouth. Once he’d reached the table, he removed the hood as student would honor their mentor. He bowed as he did.
When he rose again, Christoph’s eyes widened. He tried to prevent it, but it slipped through his will power. The man smiled and nodded. “It still burns brightly, my Lord.”
The man’s entire left side was scarred. It was as if burned and fleshy roots had filled in the damaged areas. He shaved his head due to this, but the look wasn’t as horrific as one would first assume. It was startling, but the contrast between the two sides, almost perfectly down the middle, were as if you were looking at a piece of art. There almost seemed to be an intelligent design or reason to the root-like scars and hardened skin that reflected so poorly against the smoothed, rather attractive other half.
Sashro’s right eye was that of a normal human. A green orb that floated effortlessly in the whiteness. The other; however, was a deep black that flickered as if it were a burning flame in his head. Even when he closed his eye, you could feel the shadows escaping the lid.
“What may I do for your Highness today?” He nodded in a show of respect.
“I’d like to train.” Christoph tried to keep himself from staring at the blackened eye. It’s so creepy! Christoph shook his head a bit. “I’d like to discuss a few details with you while we do so.”
“Of course, my Lord.” Sashro smiled in a way that was natural—lacking any sinister ideals or secretive hatred. He seems genuinely pleased. “I will have the targets set in The Pit. There weren’t any fights today, not that it would matter. If you asked them to clear out, The Pit would be left spotless for you.” He smiled again, but this one was slightly less inviting. “If you demanded they face you themselves, none would object. The crowd would receive a far more enjoyable show.” The discussion wrought a raspier tone to his voice.
“Kind words; however,” Christoph coughed a bit as well. I couldn’t stand in front of everyone, and he probably thinks I’m itching for some high-level stuff. I need to start small. “There is the matter of my resurrection.”
“An incredible feat. One only you could have managed, my Lord.” He smiled and nodded again—that burning eye flickering with his passion.
“Well, you see,” Christoph began looking at the ceiling, “I’m not entirely sure what happened, but I am positive that I’ve lost certain memories.” He gulped back hard. “Certain names, places… spells.” He glanced down at the man before him.
“Well,” the eyes of the magic user narrowed. There was disappointment masked in a moment of silence. Frustration even. “I’d never believed in another soul to be able to withstand such magic. The fact you are standing here, now, is testament to your strength and will. Whatever affects this magic might have had on your memories, we will just need to persevere. You are still our king, and I would give it all if it means the return of your memories.” The cough of a voice opens the mouth in an unsettling smile too forced to be considered human. “You works were important to us both, after all.”
“You’d give it all?” Christoph had heard a great many praises and offerings since he’d woken in this strange place and stranger body. Many had offered their services and even hesitated as if their lives were on the line, but this man stared coolly and calmly with the resolve that, should his life provide the currency to purchase back the memories of his master… he would gladly offer himself.
So it seemed.
“Of course. I’ve studied beneath you for so long, and had you not saved me from the grasp of The Night Fire, I’d be dead and gone. It is a debt I desire to repay, but a debt I fear not even my life could come close to fulfilling.”
Upon hearing the offering of life as if it were as simple as gold coins being placed on the counter, the undead desire for power overwhelmed Christoph. His eyes, the usual yellow with small strands of red spreading along the sides, became a bright, fiery red. In a second, the sword was drawn and Christoph leaned away from the table so his outstretched claw held the blade at an angle just an inch away from the man’s throat.
“You’d offer your life?”
The man’s black eye opened wide, and a mad smile spread over his face.
Though it all seemed so exaggerated and blissful, the madness in the man’s expression worked to feed into the volatile situation. Like parasites, they nourished one another. The human’s face and purpose stuck between goals and duty.
“Of course, Lord Gohdin! I would perish if it meant your continued glory!”
The man was breathing so quickly, Christoph believed him ready to burst into a crazed hysteria. Sashro’s head lifted to reveal the exposed throat—an easy kill made all the easier. Perhaps, there was a part of Sashro that had wanted to die or to give his life, but Christoph had no concept of just the sort of command this beast had over even his Captains.
What am I doing?! Christoph withdrew the sword with a jerk. His eyes returned to their brighter, solid hue. Sashro smiled, almost pained by the changed outcome, and lowered his head in a shallow bow. A raspy inhale settled the man as sweat beaded at his brow.
“To have spared my life again, my Lord.” His voice almost cracked. “I am grateful to serve you further.”
“Your death would bring no benefit to me.” Christoph struggled to keep that deep desire for dominance at bay. What is going on? He shook his head to clear the dragonkin’s instincts from his mind—the undead and dragon in him fought to breach the surface. Sashro took this shaking of the head in a different way.
“I thank you, Lord Gohdin. I’m thankful that my presence is worth more by your side than beneath your blade.” He smiled again and relaxed before his master.
These people are beyond crazy! Christoph nodded with wide eyes. “Of course.” Looking the man over, he couldn’t help but feel pity for the oddly damaged person that stared at his death without flinching. “Are you afraid of me?”
Sashro’s eyes now opened wider than ever before. “Sire, I shall fear you if you desire—”
“Enough.” A burst of tension erupted from the dragon’s mouth. Sashro bowed his head instinctively. “I asked if you feared me; not if you believe you should.”
Christoph’s dragon-side was baring its teeth.
“I do not fear you, Lord Gohdin.” He shook his head and lifted his eyes. “I would not be alive without you. If you desire the truth, I fear not what saves me but what would leave me to fester in agony. I fear the deal we once struck be lost, and I left behind.”
Almost ignoring the last bit completely, the dragonkin continues. “And the rest of the Spire?” The voice was already intimidating and commanding. It was a benefit that Christoph’s currently dwindling resolve could coast off of.
“There are many that fear you, but that does not mean they are not loyal or proud to be in your service. There are those that love you and praise your name even in secrecy.” The rough voice filled with far too much excitement. A liar’s tell exposed in the quantity of detail and words.
Good man. Good king. Christoph clenched at the bump around his chest. If I do lead them, if this is my fate, is fear how I want to rule?
“Master?” Sashro questioned Christoph who seemed deep in thought while clutching at his chest. “Is everything alright?”
Christoph exhaled deeply. No! It’s not alright! “Yes. I’d ask you to keep this secret. Can I trust you, Sashro?” Christoph’s sword had been returned to slumber and his voice dropped to a more empathetic tone than the man had ever heard spoken by his master.
“Of course, my Lord.” Sashro glanced over his ruler with interested inquiry.
“Good. Please then, bring me where we train ourselves. Help me with all I’ve forgotten. I’d have my knowledge and power returned to me.”