By Melnon, how have these people not lost their minds? I was staring at the ceiling above me on my third night in this gods cursed hut. Three days of the old crone prattling on about anything and everything, and by now I had heard the high points of poor Jonas’ story several times. Lucky bastard passed on thirty or forty years ago. Time has a way of blurring at their age, don’t I see? Of course I see! They’ve gone crazy sitting in the same room for days at a time with nothing to entertain them but knitting and whittling! And their skills were obviously declining as time marched on. It took an entire day for Ellie to knit one of the fingers on the mittens she was working on, while I had made more detailed figures out of mud when I was bored in the catacombs when I was six!
The more I thought back on it, the more I wondered if dad was right. These people were weak, depending on each other to make it through. The strong ruled through right of might and savvy. Of course, nearing the ends of their lives these two couldn’t have that much personal strength anyhow. Maybe things would have been different had Jonas still been there instead of falling to one of the rare wolf attacks, but you can’t change the past so it does no good to dwell on it.
At least I had the strength to shuffle about now. It took quite a while to secret away enough wood that channeling the death energy from broken rib was worthwhile, but now I could do it for a few minutes a day and allow my muscle mass to rebuild. Dropping them into the chamber pot made for easy disposal of the resulting ashes, and their admittedly ingenious disposal system ensured that it went somewhere that nobody was going to do a thorough inspection. Now that the bone had fused though, that method was worthless to me.
Scott at one point took pity on me and pulled out some games he had carved in the past. He was no tactician, and I easily slaughtered him at chess. Mostly because he was loath to sacrifice a piece. At about the midpoint of the second day I decided that I would quietly handicap myself and choose different pieces that weren’t allowed to kill other pieces. I did have to admit that he was much better at checkers, especially when the bastard managed to get two kings at the same time. He circled the board at least three times before I managed to lure him into a trap and get one of his pieces. After that it was only a matter of time before I could run down his final king. Games aside, these people undoubtedly saved my life and I owed them. That’s what had me up and sneaking as quietly as I possibly could into their room this late at night.
Standing at the foot of the bed, I used mage sight to inspect both of them. Ellie was normal for her age, with a slight fog of death around her arthritic joints that faded through her body. Scott was another story. I had heard him coughing off and on, and it wasn’t a good cough. It was one of those where things were rattling in the lungs but they didn’t have the force to expel it. Luckily for the old man, it was one of the few things death magic could treat: the wasting disease.
So many people out there thought there wasn’t much to necromancy. Take a body, shove it full of death energy, and voila! Out pops whatever undead you want. Those people were idiots. The one thing necromancy shared with other magic disciplines was the need to be exacting when you laid out the energy of the spell. And you couldn’t lay out the energy if you couldn’t see it. So we got to practice on people who had the wasting disease. Looking into his chest, it was easy to see the antithesis of death energy, clusters of life energy that were so concentrated they were slowly killing him by siphoning off the body’s resources. Once you could see the life energy, it was a lot easier to detect the fog of death permeating the rest of the body.
Scott had plenty of clusters in his lungs, but there were a few in his heart, bones, and liver as well. I could work with that, but I had to be careful in attacking those places as the path the death energy took would also be damaged. Bones would be the easiest to attack first, as the chance of him waking was smallest. I wouldn’t need much mana for this, but concentrating to make a needle of death energy wasn’t going to be easy. In the end I got it down to about half the width of a fork tine, and had to be happy with that. As carefully as I could, I started lancing down into his body. My mind kept a tight hold of the energy, not letting its form shift until the tip pierced into the target, and only then would I release a bit of energy.
It took nearly a minute per injection, slowly killing the clusters from inside and making sure I didn’t kill too much of the surroundings. I had been trained to leave a small fog nearby, no more than what Ellie would have had on her joints, to ensure that if it tried coming back it would be slowed. While I knew this was merely a delaying tactic with someone so old, it should still cover my debt. After nearly a half hour, I had taken care of all the bone issues and some of the clusters in the liver. That should be good enough for now, and his body should have to process what I killed for a few days before I could do more.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
“Terrance!” Dad’s voice ripped me from my sleep. “Breakfast is ready!”
I leapt from my bed and started throwing on clothes, not caring how well they matched. Dad didn’t mess around, and if you were late enough that all the food was on the plates, then you didn’t get breakfast. “On my way!” I yelled back, dodging around Argos and rushing downstairs as he followed on my heels, tail wagging. I burst into the kitchen to see two eggs and a few sausage patties still in the pan. Quickly scooping them onto a plate, I turned just in time to see Eric stumble in with a frown on his face.
“Gimme.” He ordered, glaring at me.
“Too late.” I shrugged as Argos growled from between my feet.
“I’ll settle the score with you one day, pup.” He promised my dog before looking back at me. “You. Damnit.” He said slamming his fist into the door frame after he saw my cheeks packed with food like a chipmunk. I smiled as he stormed off, glad to have gotten one over on him again. Swallowing with a bit of difficulty, I ruffled the fur on Argos’ head.
“Thanks for stopping my cousin.” I whispered before heading off to the mortuary. Today we were going to be combining bodies to make a low grade zombie. We didn’t have the skills yet to animate it, but we could build them. Finding what parts to match where was my favorite part, it was like a giant puzzle with unlimited answers. Soon enough we reached the morgue, the scent of preserved bodies comforting me.
“Sit down and let’s begin. Terrance, no pets today. Send him away.” Instructor Morgan barked as he walked in behind me.
“Home Argos.” I gave a whispered command, and the loyal beast took off running.
“There’s a lot to do today and little time to get it done. As such, any answer that is unsatisfactory will be met with punishment. Carol, you’re up first. We are altering a basic human to create a harpy abomination. What’s one change you are making?”
“Ummmm.” She stammered, clearly not expecting to be called out that swiftly. “Can we add albatross wings to his arms?”
“Are you asking me or telling me Carol?” Morgan glared.
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“Telling? Telling sir!”
“Very well. Jonathan, how are you attaching the wings?”
“Simple replacement should work.”
“I suppose you could if you wanted an inferior product.” Eric sneered.
“Mr. Eric, while enthusiasm is appreciated, as a master necromancer it’s my opinion that shall be voiced, understood?”
“Yes sir.” He said, though he wasn’t contrite at all and we all knew it. Morgan let him get away with nearly anything in a bid to gain favor with his dad.
“That said, you are indeed correct. Tell us why and what you would do differently.”
“Removing the arms also removes the hands and limits the creature. Instead use the Graft Disparate Parts spell to fuse the wings to the back of the arms.”
“That is the correct answer everyone, remember. Now, Jonathan you should get a second chance I suppose since you gave a partially correct answer. Explain why we should graft a modified juvenile elephant scapula to the sternum if we are not using purely magically powered flight.”
I shook my head as I noticed Jonathan freezing up. This wasn’t going to be pretty, and we were all going to sit there and watch it happen. The last time I had tried to help someone out of a punishment we both received double punishment.
“I, uh. We need a. Um. Muscle anchor?”
“Keep going Jonathan. Why do you need a muscle anchor?”
As Morgan grew more impatient with the silence, he started tapping his toe on the stone floor. Tap. Tap. Tap. Taptaptaptap. “How disappointing. You’ll be spending your next Saturday afternoon helping in the bone bleaching vats. Terrance, finish Jon’s answer and then tell us what type of muscle you would use and why.”
“If you aren’t using purely magically powered flight then it needs to have a physical component. That takes a lot of explosive muscle power, far more than what a human naturally has. More and stronger muscle needs a stronger attachment point. I would cut down alligator tail muscle to use instead of anything from a human.”
“Alligator tail?” Morgan’s eyebrows lifted for a moment. “Interesting. Explain why you chose that instead of alligator jaw muscle.”
“It’s true alligator jaw is better with the explosive movement, but it’s lacking bulk. You would need to harvest several gators to get the job done. Get a big enough gator and you get the bulk muscles you need even if they aren’t fully up to the task. But you said that it is only partially physical, so the lack can be made up with via magic.”
“Excellent. For the rest of you, other options would be to go with a prey animal that uses speed and agility to evade predators. Anything from the deer family would be acceptable and less dangerous. We now have a harpy abomination capable of flight. What else do we need? Hmm, Samantha. You aren’t doing nearly as well hiding as you think you are.”
“Umm, we need to alter the legs?” She shakily answered before remembering Carol’s mistake. “I mean, we need to alter the legs sir.”
“Very well, how are you altering them?”
“Change the lower legs to Roc claws.”
“I see. Why the legs and not the feet?”
“Muscles and defense.” She answered, gaining confidence. “The lower portion of the leg is just as easy to replace and already has all the required muscles to operate the foot. The skin is also much thicker than that on a human. Assuming that whatever is in its claws is hostile, the only feasible target would be the lower legs.”
Time in class dragged on after that, and we ended up building the zombie we had planned. The day flew by, and soon enough everything was finished. As I was leaving, I felt a hand drop to my shoulder.
“Young Master, it’s time for your ceremony. And happy tenth birthday.” Claude, the family butler smiled.
“Thanks Claude. Lead the way please.” I replied, following the elderly man. A few minutes later and we were in the ritual chamber at the center of the catacombs.
“This is where I leave you. Good luck Young Master.” Claude said, bowing and walking backwards. Inside was my father, standing behind an altar. Green flames circled the central ritual circle at eight points, and there was a small black object on the altar. Walking up, I gave my father a proper bow.
“Today is your tenth birthday.” He said, voice devoid of emotion. “This shall be your first step towards becoming a master necromancer, and you shall learn the least of our secrets. Hold out your left hand. Notice how you still have your pinky finger, yet every necromancer you have seen is missing theirs. Today you learn why.”
He picked up the ring from the altar and held it before me. “This is our greatest treasure and the true legacy left behind when Melnon left this world. It was his spatial ring, and he kept his dearest treasures within. He foresaw his return, and thus bound the ring to respond only to his soul. Each aspiring necromancer tries on the ring at the age of ten, when Melnon first learned of his affinity for Ennoriah’s domain. All who come before you have failed, and lost their finger. Today we hope to celebrate your passing the test. Put the ring on.”
I stared at it for a moment, scared of losing my finger. I was right handed, so the loss of my left pinky really wouldn’t do much, but I didn’t want to. Suddenly I was watching from the side as my father lost his patience and grabbed my wrist. “NO!” I screamed, but my body had locked up and I was a powerless observer. I knew all that was going to happen next, but could do nothing to change it. Instead I watched, tears rolling down my cheek as the ring was placed on my finger. A bright flash blinded everyone, and as our eyes recovered there it was. The ring sitting on my finger. For the first time in my life I saw my father smiling at me, and observer me couldn’t help but shudder in repulsion. Young me couldn’t see the greed in his eyes.
“You passed the test. YOU PASSED THE TEST! MY SON IS MELNON REBORN!” Father cried, arms raised to the sky. As the moment passed, he looked at me. “Now, for the second test! Behold!” With a flair I didn’t know he possessed, the curtain over the altar was removed.
“ARGOS!” I cried, seeing my dog chained and muzzled. “Why?” Young me looked at my father while I silently watched.
“Necromancers must be heartless. This is the core of everything. As you also learned, or should have learned, a spirit with strong connections makes a much better undead. Today you create your first guardian. You will kill Argos and alter him to meet your needs. Then you will use the Greater Guardian Resurrection Ritual to revive him and give you a protector.”
“No. No, I can’t.”
“You can and you will.”
“NO! ANYONE BUT ARGOS!”
“DO IT SO YOU CAN FEEL THE SAME PAIN AS MELNON WENT THROUGH! ONLY THEN CAN YOU TRULY EMBRACE NECROMANCY!”
“I REFUSE!” As my younger self cried out his refusal, my father backhanded me. The force spun me around, and I struck my head on the ground.
“Pitiful. Don’t worry, for Melnon once had a soft heart as well. We know how to harden yours.” With a flash, the scene changed. I was still an observer, and Argos was still chained to the altar and whimpering. My younger self was kneeling, arms yoked and chained to my ankles so I couldn’t help but watch. Standing behind the altar with an evil grin was Eric, and in his hand a rust colored Kris. Cold water was ruthlessly splashed in my face, and I woke up. Before I could even move, my father had grasped a handful of my hair and was forcing my head back.
“Now you will watch as Eric kills your beloved pet, and raises it as his own guardian. This is the price of being weak. After, you will activate that ring on your finger and turn everything in it over to me. Eric, begin.”
“ARGOS! NOOOOOO!” I screamed as Eric’s blade descended.
“Shhhh, it’s ok dear. It’s ok.” A strange voice pierced through the nightmare, and the horrid vision shattered before I could see my friend killed.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
I came to only to find myself wrapped up in Ellie’s arms, with Scott gently rubbing my back.
“Shhh, Nana Ellie and PawPaw Scott are here. Shhh, it’s ok sweetie, let it all out.” She softly coaxed, gently rocking me back and forth. That pressure on my chest was back, and this time I didn’t have to wonder what it was. It was the feeling of being loved, something I hadn’t felt for the three years Argos had been torn from me.
I broke. Tears flowed freely as I finally accepted everything. I wailed until I lost my voice and started choking and coughing on the drainage of snot. Through it all Ellie never let go of me, never complained, never got mad. She just held me, and it was the kindest thing anyone had ever done for me.