Chapter 43:

  Stryg rubbed his hands to gather what little warmth he could. Snowflakes danced around him in a muted gust of wind. He sat perched on the rooftop of an old house in the commoner district. It was late, or rather quite early, the sun would be rising soon. He had been here for the better part of the night, waiting quietly for his opportunity.

  In retrospect, he should have brought blankets from his apartment, but it was too late for that. He wished he could create a fire like his master. Instead he was shivering like a newborn, with only a thin grey cloak to keep him warm.

  The door of the house across the street creaked open. This was it. Stryg’s patience was finally about to pay off. Karen’s mother stepped out from the house, holding a basket.

  Stryg had wondered what would be the best way to make Karen talk. Should he threaten her mother, attack her, or kidnap her? With the mother’s life on the line, Karen would be sure to talk about the whereabouts of the rest of her gang. Despite spending the night on a snow-covered rooftop, Stryg had been unable to make a decision.

  Karen’s mother looked back at the house, “Hurry up, we’ll be late.”

  “Coming!” A small mass of bundled winter clothing waddled out, “Mommy, this is too much. I can barely move.”

  “I don’t want you catching a cold.”

“Can I just stay home then? It’s freezing out here,” the small child complained.

  “Your dad has been working all night and will probably keep working throughout the day. He needs something to eat. I would have sent Karen, but your sister hasn’t come home either. So, I need to go and I can’t leave you alone.”

  “I’m already 8 and 3 quarters, I can handle myself,” the child pouted.

  “I’m sorry honey, I can’t leave you by yourself, there could be dangerous people just waiting to catch you!” The mother’s fingers launched a tickle assault.

  The child giggled and tried to run away, but her mother caught her in her arms, “Nooo!”

“I got you!” The mother kissed her daughter on her chubby green cheek.

  After another bout of laughter she set her daughter down.

  The child pointed at the dark road ahead, where the morning sun’s rays barely reached. “What happens if the dangerous people are over there?”

  “I’ll protect you of course, to my dying breath,” the mother placed her hand over heart proudly.

“I don't want you to die!” The child cried out.

  “It’s just an expression, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere. Come on, let’s get going,” the mother held her daughter’s hand tightly.

  Stryg watched the scene unfold with surreal wonder. Was this what other children behaved like? How a mother treated her child? It was foreign, puzzling, raw. The daughter’s eyes were full of curiosity. Had he been like that as a child? Naive and innocent to the dangers that lurked in the shadows? And was he the one who would take it away from her?

  “What am I doing?” Stryg muttered to himself.

  The world was cruel and without reason, Stryg had learned that at an early age. But, this moment, this action, was his to control. Karen might be guilty, yet these two were innocent. Karen was an enemy, she had to die, and Stryg would be the cause. But, these two didn’t have to be involved, not directly. Stryg sighed and turned to leave. He’d have to find another way.

  A pair of undead sentinels walked around the corner and spotted the mother and child. The cloaked guardians shambled towards them. The little girl hid behind her mother’s skirt.

  “It’s okay honey. I thought they would be gone by now, but we have our nameplates.” The mother patted her child’s head. She reached into her basket and pulled out a small iron nameplate, “Let us pass please.”

  The sentinels did not slow their advance, instead they raised their iron chains. The mother’s eyes widened as the blood drained from her jade-green face. Her eyes darted around in panic. She wasn’t sure she could outrun them, her daughter certainly couldn’t. There was only one thing she could do.

  The mother gripped her daughter’s shoulders, “Sophi, you need to run. I’ll distract them.”

“Mommy, I can’t.” Sophi’s knees shook.

  “Baby, you have too.” She kissed Sophi’s forehead, “I’ll protect you, just go. Now!”

  The iron whip cracked through the air and slammed into Stryg’s shoulder. The mother pulled her daughter back in surprise at the sudden stranger who appeared from nowhere. Stryg fell to his knees in pain.

  Fuuuck, Stryg groaned silently.

  He had planned to push the daughter away from the oncoming lashing, but had been too slow. The sentinels marched forward. Stryg whipped out his silver nameplate with a madman’s speed, hoping the sentinels’ reaction might differ.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  The undead lowered their chains. The mother watched the scene with surprise. She had never seen a goblin with a silver nameplate before.

  “Go, quickly,” Stryg said without taking his eyes off the sentinels.

  She didn’t have to be told twice. She grabbed Sophi’s little hand and pulled her away. The sentinels’ steel masks slowly turned towards the two escaping goblins. They raised their chains and began to chase after them. Stryg jumped in between them and raised his nameplate as if it were a ward against the undead. The sentinels stopped in their tracks.

  “Change of plans. Stay close. I’ll take you back to your house. Don’t leave until the sun is high in the sky,” Stryg said.

“Sophi, come here,” The mother pulled Sophi closer.

  Stryg stood between the sentinels and the woman and child as they walked back to the house. The mother struggled to find her keys for a terrifying moment, but she finally managed to open the door and ushered Sophi in quickly.

  The mother glanced at Stryg, “You should come in too. It’s dangerous. Who knows if those sentinels will change their mind and attack you.”

  “No, I’m fine. Just stay inside,” Stryg said without turning.

“Thank you... I will never forget your kindness,” she bowed.

  Stryg’s back stiffened at the word. Kindness? He wasn’t trying to be kind. Hell, he was still planning to kill her other daughter. He had simply seen the two in danger and then… Then he wasn’t sure why he acted. He remembered seeing Sophi’s paralyzed legs as she watched the undead monsters coming after her. He had seen the same look reflected in the eyes of the amethyst dragon. The face of a little goblin child afraid to die.

  “Close the door behind you,” Stryg said.

  Once he heard the door shut, Stryg began to slowly walk away, keeping the nameplate in his hand. The sentinels ignored him, glanced at the door, and continued on their patrol. He stayed near Karen’s house for a few more minutes, in case they’d turn around.

  Stryg winced at the stinging pain from his back, “What am I doing?”

  He shouldn’t have gotten involved. It was survival of the fittest. He didn’t know these goblins, yet he risked his life like a fool, and had been injured for it. He really was an idiot, he deserved to have been injured. Yet, as he glanced at the old clay house, he found himself not regretting his decision. Though, he didn’t agree with Plum’s ideals, this would have to be the one-time exception, he told himself. Stryg suddenly smiled, he had an idea.

~~~

  Stryg huffed as he rested on a bench in the cold chamber. Winter had only made the “Intro to Black Magic”’s underground classroom colder than ever.

  Stryg watched the shambling bodies of the undead rise to the command of the other mage novices. He glanced at his own corpse. At most the body’s arm wiggled and could even rise if he really put his focus into it. But, that was it. For all his training and meditation he couldn’t control the corpse no matter how much he tried.

  Professor Gette walked over, “Not, much progress, ey?”

Stryg grit his teeth, Gette was right of course.

  But, Stryg decided to change the topic. “Professor, earlier this morning I encountered a pair of sentinels who refused to acknowledge a nameplate.”

  “Where? Sentinels rarely fail in that regard, but it has been known to happen. It must be dealt with at once. We can’t have innocent people getting attacked.”

  “It was in the commoner district.”

“Oh, that’s good. Nevermind then,” Gette sighed in relief.

  “I thought you said you didn’t want people to be attacked?”

  “Of course. But, there’s no need to rush. There is scheduled maintenance that happens every few weeks for the sentinels. The commoners can afford to wait.”

  “...I see.” Stryg understood. The weak were given no importance. It was no surprise.

  “By the way, you shouldn’t try so hard in your spell casting. It’s obvious you don’t have talent for necromancy,” Gette noted.

  Stryg chuckled to himself. Growing up he didn’t have talent for anything. But, it never stopped him from trying. He needed to get stronger, it was the only way to achieve his dreams.

  “I managed to make the arm move. It’s a start,” Stryg said.

  “No, it’s a failure. It has nothing to do with your skill as a mage. It’s talent. Different chromatic colors and their spell forms require different kinds of talent. You’re sorely lacking when it comes to necromancy. I’m surprised that you have been able to do this much already.”

  “So, what, I should just give up?” Stryg frowned.

  “To be a mage? No. To master the necromancy spell form? Yes. Most definitely. You may not have the talent to master the entire range of black spell forms, but among all the 1st year black magi you have shown the greatest skill. Your recent improvement of the shadow spell form is comparable to late 2nd year students. Believe me, you are better off spending your time focusing on your shadow spells, instead of necromancy.”

  “I don’t want to give up,” Stryg clenched his fists.

  He had given up before, accepted defeat. It didn’t end well. This was his new life, he didn’t want to go through that again.

  “Then you leave me no choice. You are banned from practicing necromancy in this class,” Gette stated.

“What? Why? I thought professors are supposed to help us learn?”

  “No, we are supposed to help you become successful magi. Currently your best chance at that is shadow magic. You’ll thank me later.” Gette cupped his hands and shouted, “Class dismissed!”

  Stryg sighed in frustration. Even his choice was taken from him. He was simply handed the failure. Stryg stayed seated on the bench long after the rest had left. Perhaps Gette was right. His shadow magic had been improving a great deal lately, thanks to his anger-based meditation. Still, the loss stung.

  Stryg stared at the human corpse on the metal table. He recalled the books and their details of the muscles, bones, and sinew that ran across a human’s legs. He brought the image to focus, his will desiring for it to move. Then he remembered his anger, remembered Karen and her gang. How they had ambushed him. The mana within responded to his emotion.

  Black mana began to flow from Stryg’s heart and into his arms. He remembered his tribe and how they had beaten him, time and time again. He remembered First Mother and her cruelty, Cruvor’s fake vision and lies, the poacher who had taken him from his forest.

  Mana surged into his veins in a flood of power. His chest began to burn with the overwhelming ethereal energy. He took quick shallow breaths and focused on the corpse. The legs began to tremble. At an agonizingly slow pace they began to raise one at a time. Stryg fell to his knees in pain, but he kept the spell going. He had to focus, he was so close.

  “Stryg, stop, you’ll kill yourself!” Loh shouted from the doorway.

  His master’s voice pierced through his concentration, shattering the spell. The corpse’s legs flopped onto the table. Stryg collapsed in exhaustion.