Anastacia flinched awake and found that she was completely unable to move her body below her neck. Nothing seemed to be weighing down on her and she was able to feel everything just fine, but it was as if her body had been cast in clay and was simply stuck. Before even bothering to look around in the dimly lit room, she checked her surroundings and tried to find Gilbert, who was now alone and probably in a much worse situation than she. And surely, the old adventurer was running as fast as he could only about a hundred meters away from Anastacia, but a couple of floors below. Considerably nearer to her was the corpse they had been looking for, in fact, it was only six or so meters behind her, and she could smell the rotten smell of the mummified owner of the mansion. With Gilbert at least alive and reasonably well considering his troubles with almost every inanimate object they had come across, Anastacia could move on to her own situation.
In front of her was a sturdy looking wooden table with a worn-down surface, from what was probably decades of carpentry and sewing, based on the dusty tools that were scattered everywhere. To the left of her was a small window that lit the room with moonlight, from the window Anastacia could also see the gates into the garden and some of the taller buildings in the village among the treetops a bit further away. On her right was a pile of assorted bits of wood and cloth, probably what had been scavenged from the rooms she and Gilbert had passed earlier. Though she couldn’t see behind her, from the echoes she could tell that she was in a small nook of a much larger room. Unable to turn her head enough to see what was behind her, Anastacia chose to speak up. “Hello?” She said.
“You have woken, good.” Said a raspy female voice almost directly into her ear. It didn’t sound particularly young or old, just like it hadn’t had a drink in years.
“Are you a ghost?” The necromancer responded immediately.
She could hear the voice sigh. “No, I am not a spirit, vengeful or otherwise.” It said.
“You sound like a ghost.” Anastacia kept pressing the issue.
“Had you ever met a ghost, you would know that to be untrue.” The voice said calmly.
Anastacia disregarded her captor’s answer. “Whatever, ghost.” She scoffed and tried to turn her head more.
An extremely long fingered, huge hand appeared on Anastacia’s shoulder, though it had five fingers and the general shape of a human hand, it looked more like a bird’s foot and had a sharp black talon at the end of each finger to match. It pulled on the chair gently and turned it around, allowing the necromancer to see what she was dealing with.
Attached to the raptor-like arm was a massive creature that had to stay hunched over to fit inside the room at all. Had it been standing upright, it would have been at least seven meters tall. Most of its body was covered by long brightly colored a robe made from an expensive looking fabric that had been detailed with gold, silver and gemstones from the collar to the hem, which covered both the lower half of the creature and the floor around it. Despite its considerable size, the robe was far too large and only loosely fit it. The monstrosity’s general body shape was that of a wolf or a large cat, Anastacia wasn’t able to tell because of its clothing, but it definitely seemed like it would prefer walking on all fours. Its long neck was covered in black feathers from the top and dark fur around its throat. The creature’s relatively small face and head were covered by a porcelain mask that resembled a calmly smiling face of a beautiful woman. From behind the mask sprouted two thick horns that were about a meter long each, pointed almost directly to the sides and had been carved full of beautiful shapes. Around the horns grew some beautifully smooth, long black hair that had been braided and decorated with jewelry. While its one arm, or front leg, was on Anastacia’s shoulder, the other one was wrapped around the corpse of the deceased Bartholomew, owner of the mansion, as if to protect it.
One by one, candles around the room lit on their own, revealing the rest of the room to Anastacia. From almost wall to wall, the large workshop was filled with salvaged pieces of wood and mannequins crafted from them. Some of the complete ones were wearing beautifully made clothes that were obviously sown together from the drapes, bed sheets and other pieces of fabric found around the mansion.
As the massive beast leaned closer to the necromancer and lowered its mask right in front of her face, Anastacia was able to see the bloodshot, but otherwise completely white eyes behind the ceramic mask. Though the size and look of the monster was slightly worrying, what bothered Anastacia the most was its complete immunity to necromancy. She could feel the air in the room shift as it moved, so it was definitely there and not just an illusion, yet she couldn’t feel its body in the slightest. There was only one other being Anastacia had met that appeared to be a living creature yet somehow wasn’t: the goddess Vilja. “Are you a god then?” She asked, slightly more nervously this time.
“Nothing like that under our roof, not the place for things divine you see.” The beast sighed and undid the strap on Anastacia’s helmet to lift it off.
“Then what are you?” Anastacia asked and tried to wiggle about to free herself in vain.
The beast placed Anastacia’s helmet on the floor next to her and proceeded to remove her weapons before neatly piling them on the floor. “Worry not about such things, esteemed necromancer, all will be clear, sooner or later. For now, you may call me Nirmaata, it is not the one I prefer amongst my names, but it is one you can speak out.” It introduced itself with a melancholy tone in its voice.
Anastacia nodded. “Okay, Nirmaata, I assume you’re the one who has been giving us trouble?” She suggested and tried her best to sound calm.
“Perhaps esteemed necromancer should re-evaluate her attitude towards invading the domains of others? Heads have and will roll for lesser offenses, or have invitations fallen out of fashion as of late?” The beast asked and lowered its mask even closer to Anastacia’s face. “But set aside your marauding ways we shall, for I did not foresee such luck befalling us. I feared we were beyond all hope, but by some curious happenstance, it was you of all people that decided to plunder what little we have to offer.”
“Uh… We’re not here to steal anything, it’s just that the dude who lived here had some friends that wanted us to check up on him, but since he’s dead, we kind of need to take the body so they can bury it or whatever.” Anastacia pointed out, hoping that if the creature knew their intentions, it would cease its attacks.
Nirmaata leaned back and retreated into the corner of the room where it kept the corpse of Bartholomew. It let out a harrowing wail and wrapped its other arm around the body as well. “This I cannot allow! The world stacks the deck against us, but it must eventually understand that dearest Bartholomew is mine and mine alone!” It snarled as the feathers on its neck stood up. “Friends, they distract dearest Bartholomew from what really matters, strangle them in their sleep I should have, just like before!”
This was one of those rare situations where Anastacia realized that anything she would have said would just make things worse. Usually she could run her mouth and annoy her opponents without having to fear the consequences, if anything, she was able to bait them into making mistakes they wouldn’t have made had they remained calm; but this time there was no way for her to retaliate and her usual antics would have just gotten Gilbert and possible herself killed. She did briefly consider launching one of the remaining spears at the beast though, but the outcome would have probably been no different from when she tried to break down the door earlier, and that was better left as an absolute last option.
“’But dearest Bartholomew is dead’, is what esteemed necromancer is thinking, isn’t it? That is why we are fortunate for having such gifted burglars. So, hear this humble plea of mine: fix dearest Bartholomew. Wake him from his slumber, so that we may once more be together!” Nirmaata said and extended its neck to put its mask only a couple of centimeters away from Anastacia’s face.
“Ca… can I say no? Because I don’t really do the whole reanimation thing and there are some other iss-“ The necromancer tried to explain but was interrupted.
“You may, but pleas are quick to become demands. Trust me, esteemed necromancer, forcing a craftsman to apply their abilities is in my nature, and not something you wish to face. Yet the firmest of my beliefs states that the greatest masterpieces are created by free hands, without an exception. So it would serve both you and I if you were to agree.” Nirmaata said and placed its hand on Anastacia’s shoulder, slightly digging its claw into her vest.
Anastacia knew that what Nirmaata likely wanted was flat out impossible. There was no way to bring back anyone in any meaningful way. Once a person was dead, everything they were as a person was erased. Thralls would ‘remember’ some functions they had while alive, for example undead horses knew how to run and birds could fly without having to be directly controlled by the necromancer, though much of that was speculated to stem from the subconsciousness of the one in control. For a skilled controller, it was even possible to have the bodies of people that had fallen in battle brandish weapons with a sufficient efficiency. But no amount of necromancy would make the dead flesh remember its friends or family, have feelings or anything like that. Things like complete resurrection of a person were firmly in the domain of gods, as Anastacia had the privilege of knowing firsthand. However, admitting that it wasn’t going to happen probably wasn’t such a good idea, but the knowledge that Nirmaata did indeed need Anastacia for something, gave her an idea.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“Well, there are a few issues with that. Like I said, it’s not really something I’m experienced at.” She pointed out.
Nirmaata ran its finger across Anastacia’s cheek. “This is true. In your slumber, I have tested your abilities, measured your skills, and the painful fact I found was your flimsy techniques. The knowledge is there but the arms do not convey it. It goes against my nature to allow such haphazard craftsmanship, and failure is not an option when it comes to dearest Bartholomew.” It reasoned and picked up a dead rat from somewhere. “But luckily, practice makes perfect and nature provides us with ample resources for improving ourselves.”
“Let me finish. I demand an exchange of favors. I’ll see about your request, but in exchange I want you to free the man I came here with. Give my helmet to him, fix his wounds, apologize to him face to face and let him out of the mansion.” Anastacia said and stared Nirmaata directly in the eyes with all the conviction she had in her.
The beast growled. “Why? Difficult to kill as he may be, not a single creative bone in his lumbering husk, waste of manhood and an utter oaf. Freeing him does no good for anyone, least of all you.” It wondered and glared at Anastacia. “What platform does esteemed necromancer have to demand such favors, prisoner and helpless against my will. So pray tell, what reason do I have to comply?”
Anastacia took a deep breath. “Because you need me, and I won’t do shit before he’s safe. You can control my body all you want, but I don’t need my hands to blow my own head clean off in a blink of an eye.” She threatened.
“Esteemed necromancer would waste her own life like that? I find that difficult to believe, no matter how much this utter oaf means to you. Words without intent, I wager.” Nirmaata scoffed at the idea.
“I prefer death over being forced to do stuff against my own will, so either do as I say and earn my help, or you’ll be shit out of luck and out of necromancers. How long do you reckon you have to wait until the next one happens to come by?” Anastacia stood her ground.
“Fuckfuckfuckfuck…” Gilbert swore and rushed through the door back into the foyer. Ever since Anastacia had disappeared roughly three hours ago, the mansion had turned into an endless nightmare for him. His injuries now seemed permanent and his pursuers no longer gave up after a while. So far, he had destroyed almost a dozen mannequins, trapped several metallic spider toys and escaped from multiple burning rooms. During his escape, he had stumbled upon a full suit of decorative plate armor and was able to steal a shield from it. Despite not being made for actual combat, it had served well and was now riddled with holes, made by the pointy feet of the toy spiders. But that was where his luck had ended, over the course of the chase, he had acquired more injuries and wasn’t able to tend to them before being found again, and as a result had lost a lot of blood.
The foyer appeared empty, but the adventurer’s eyes immediately locked onto the one-armed mannequin that had been the first one to attack him. It hadn’t moved from where Anastacia had put it but was now decorated with countless rusted nails sprouting from everywhere on its body. Having learned how to deal with its kind by now, Gilbert swung for its legs, separating them from the body. Next one up was the mannequin’s remaining arm, which also popped off nicely despite the adventurer’s attacks starting to lack strength. Limbless, the wooden dolls were unable to move and no longer presented much of a threat, though they were still very much alive and wiggled about.
Exhausted, low on blood, hungry and dehydrated, Gilbert collapsed against the wall. He glanced out of a window at the dark garden and whacked the glass with his elbow, mostly as a joke. Of course, the window didn’t give out in the slightest and the adventurer sighed. “Should’ve listened to mother, should’ve just built a house and married a buxom maid, should’ve had kids. That’s the dream, isn’t it? Maybe farm some bees and start making mead. Grow old and die surrounded by a lowing family.” He said and laughed dryly. “Or… I could just not have a boring, plain life like that. I’m sorry to disappoint you mother, but I have some more horrors to beat up and a necromancer to find before I have time to regret my life choices – but let’s not forget the buxom maid part, that I can work with.” He muttered and pulled himself together.
As he hastily used scraps from the mannequin’s white dress to tie some of the more grievous wounds, Gilbert was startled by a sudden metallic clanking from the top of the staircase to the second floor. Though it was different from the noises the spiders made, it probably wasn’t a good sign. He readied his mace and shield once more, only to watch a single candelabra bounce its way down the marble stairs and slide all the way to him. Not taking any chances, the adventurer kicked the golden candelabra across the foyer and turned back to the stairs to see what sort of new nightmares the mansion had conjured for him the quell. After a brief moment of silence, a second candelabra tumbled down the other set of stairs, followed by an entire rolled up carpet.
“What the fuck is all this now?!” Gilbert groaned and watched more carpets and candelabras make their way to the middle of the room.
Slowly the expensive red carpets wrapped around themselves and the candelabras, forming a large mound in the middle of the foyer. It moved very slightly every now and then and let out noises that sounded like something metallic grinding against the marble floor tiles. Gilbert took a few steps back as the massive lump of carpets took shape. Presumably once it was done, the mound fell quiet and appeared really unmenacing as far as the horrors inside the manor went. Somehow the adventurer felt slightly disappointed by it – that is, until a seam between two carpets on the side of the mound opened up and revealed a massive, bright red reptilian eye.
“Oh shit… I’m just going to… just no…” Gilbert said and picked up the spiky head of the mannequin he had disassembled and threw it directly at the eye.
The head hit its mark and stuck to the eye briefly before falling off as the carpet lump writhed in agony. From somewhere within its body, it let out a terrifying scream that likely echoed into every nook and cranny of the mansion. More seams began to open on the mound wherever two carpets met, either a new eye opened itself or a tentacle made from wrapped up rugs sprouted and coiled around the nearest fixture it could reach, only to forcibly tear them off and fling them towards the adventurer. Besides a single glancing blow he had to deflect with his new shield they weren’t much of a threat, but unfortunately that was only the beginning, as the tentacles quickly started to reach for the adventurer himself. Injured and tired, Gilbert was in no shape to escape further, and hitting something that was made of carpets with a mace did exactly as much good as one would expect. This resulted in a fairly quick and one-sided fight between them, that ended in Gilbert being deprived of his weapon and shield and being dangled high up in the air, above the carpet creature as it unraveled its top and revealed a mouth full of countless sharpened gold spikes, no doubt made from the candelabras.
Barely conscious anymore, Gilbert reached into one of the pouches on his belt and pulled out a small black orb with a piece of thread coming out of it. He quickly tugged on the thread and hoped the friction from it was enough to light the fuse of his weapon. As sparks began shooting out of the small hole in the orb, he smiled and chucked it into the mouth of the carpet creature, where it quickly lit up into a bright blaze of sparks and molten iron. Clearly in pain, the creature flailed blindly and tossed Gilbert into the corner of the room.
The adventurer dragged himself to a wall, leaned against it and watched the most recent of the mansion’s creations go up in flames. There was a slight chance that the fire would catch on and start to spread, but Gilbert had no chance to worry about such things, as he could hear the horrid screams of the metal spiders behind one of the doors. “I’ll just close my eyes for a second, rest up and get going again.” He lied to himself, he clearly wasn’t going to get up anymore.
“An utter oaf and a persistent thorn in the side, how can a single man be so hard to kill?” A raspy female voice suddenly said.
Gilbert flinched awake, his injuries were gone, as was the flaming husk of the carpet monster and the screeches of his pursuers, but all of that seemed like minor details compared to the creature standing in front of him.
“He knows what he’s seeing!” Nirmaata exclaimed sounding surprised. “Perhaps it was I, who underestimated this utter oaf. Scholars of today would puzzle themselves to death attempting to reveal my secrets, but somehow he knows.”
Gilbert rubbed his eyes to make sure that the massive creature in front of him was indeed what it seemed like. “A muse?” He stuttered in disbelief.
“Flame of passion and creativity, herald of artists and maker of masters, that is what I am.” Nirmaata nodded.
“You… you’re supposed to be extinct, ages ago…” The adventurer said and started to inch towards the mace he had dropped earlier.
Nirmaata noticed his intentions and picked up the weapon. “My kind, yes, but yet I stand. Though the topic is fascinating, I came here not to chat, as matters more meaningful demand my attention. Instead I came here to give you this.” It said and handed over Anastacia’s helmet, along with the mace. “The esteemed necromancer has successfully bargained for your life and freedom, and my side of the bargain includes that, an apology, and a safe departure from our domain. Perhaps, since you know of me, you understand not to waste this gift.”
The adventurer snagged the items from Nirmaata’s claws and backed off towards the front door. “So Anna is still alive then?” He sighed and looked at the helmet. “Afraid that means that I’ll come back to get her, like it or not.”
“A fitting decision for an utter oaf. Remember this: our bargain will not be repeated, returning here bodes nothing but death and demise.” The muse sighed and with a wave of its hand, sent Gilbert flying through the front door into the pond outside.