The sun rose, as it always did, when the morning came. Bright light came over the mountains, and illuminated the scene of carnage. Remnants of the Klavan elite stationed at the Blood Citadel had managed to retake the fortress. Out of the 20,000 former elite soldiers stationed, only 7,000 had survived the invasion and subsequent counter-siege of their own fortress. As the Klavan military cleared out the dead, they counted around 6,000 Janaroian soldiers. How the Janaro brigade managed to completely surprise and force the Klavan troops out of their own fortress with a smaller force was a mystery the new Lord Zhakar was eager to find out.
“Hmm so they scaled the gates at the Pass with the aid of these….grappling hooks?” The new Lord Klavan glared at the unusual tool that he held in his hand. Pagan Zhakar was the eldest son of the former Lord Zhakar. His first action was to retake the Blood Citadel from those petulant losers from Janaro. His second action was to properly bury all of the innocent castle staff that had been the first civilian casualties of the battle.
“They are indeed, my Lord. I believe that they are a slightly modified version of what the Janaro sailors to catch the rigging on enemy ships so that they may board and make battle with their foes out on the ocean. It appears that the Janaro Special Forces have been trying for centuries to figure out a way around the Pass. I cannot imagine how many men and resources they lost before they finally found a way.” Major Vuk Goran relayed what the Klavan intelligence division at the Blood Citadel had concluded after analyzing the Janaro forces equipment.
“It seems that Janaro sent several assassination squads through paths yet unknown to us bypassing the Pass. These initial kill-scout squads were to map the surrounding areas and stealthily invade the fortress. They then unlocked the Western Gate of the Citadel and let in the remaining members of the invading brigade.” Vuk continued his report, even as Pagan’s face darkened as time passed.
“We can assume that the vast majority of the invading forces have been crushed, there are some remnants in the surrounding countryside. However, as a stroke of luck none of the invading force were able to return through the Pass. Your decision to secure the Western battlements prevented the enemy from retreating back into their territory.” Vuk finished his report, then stepped back a meter. The young Zhakar had a temper like that of his late father, and one was wise not to get close whenever either of them were filled with frustration.
Pagan grit his teeth, and very tersely gave out his orders.
“Send word to the capital for reinforcements as soon as possible. The Emperor needs to know about what happened. We suffered a great blow today because we were complacent. Neither my father nor I realized that there could possibly be another way through the Pass. As for the dead, Klavan or Janaro soldiers both, bury them with full honors. This is a pyrrhic victory for us, and could mean the start of another full invasion attempt by the Republic. See to it that our supply lines remain intact, and order the men to be on full alert. Dismissed, Major.”
“Your will be done. Lord Zhakar.” Vuk quickly left to carry out his orders.
[It seems that things will finally get interesting around here. I nearly lost the Blood Citadel…and I don’t want to imagine what the Emperor would do to me if I had actually lost it] Pagan broke into a cold sweat thinking about the possible consequences should he have lost his fortress. And it was his fortress now. Zhakar sat in his office at the top of the massive Citadel Tower, thinking of the future and what he had lost.
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“Ugh.” With a groan, Kazimir Taleeb’s eyes snapped open. [How many days has it been?] Kaz’s thoughts were in a panic. With a start, he realized that his wounds were gone and his body restored.
[W-wh-whaaat?!? I was sure I was dying…..am I dead? Oh…oh Gods the Janaro soldiers...their body parts are everywhere…urrragggh] Kaz vomited at the sight of the ruined corpses of two squads of soldiers, one belonging to Klavan and Janaro respectively.
{Stupid boy! Keep it down! Why are you such a pansy this early in the morning? It hasn’t even been a day since you nearly died. Why the young are so energetic I will never know…} A sudden voice popped into Kaz’s mind. It sounded suspiciously familiar….
“Master Ahriman? So it IS you. Where are you? How did I get healed? ---!!!!” Kaz’s voice was instantly silenced, and even though he tried to speak, no sound came out.
{Yes yes yes yes it’s me. Now pipe down. I have a hangover. I healed you. I killed those annoying morons. I’m a ghost. I’m bound to your body because of a freak accident. I don’t want to listen to your loud voice while my head…region thing is still ringing.}
[What?] Kaz had never been so confused in his life. Wasn’t Master Ahriman an apothecary? How could any sort of herbal treatment worked so fast?
{Just….let me elaborate. I am not a mere apothecary}
[Clearly not. !!!!] Kaz’s body shuddered as Ahriman sent an unearthly chill through Kaz’s chest, bringing Kaz to his knees.
{Don’t give me that backtalk, boy. I could have left you to die. I can’t die again since I’m already a ghost. Well I was a higher class of ghost, a wraith specifically, but I expended too much power in eliminating the Janoroian squad and healing you. Now will you listen?} Kaz, still in the throes of icy chest pain, gave a small nod as agreement.
{Good. Now I used to be a Necromancer. An Elder Necromancer to be exact, a practitioner of the great magic of the Maladorusi. Don’t know who they are? Hmph. Some historian you turned out to be.}
By this point Kaz had recovered enough to move his upper body. His legs were still numb, so he crawled towards the tree. Grunting, Kaz managed to prop himself against a tree while listening to Ahriman lecture him.
{I’m only with you right now because you fell into my ritual circle a couple days ago. The circle was the last step in the creation of a lich. More specifically it was the step where I would bind my soul to my skeleton, preventing it from leaving this world when I die. I was supposed to stay in the circle for the whole time. As a celebration for the culmination of decades of work, I….err….consumed great quantities of alcohol.}
Stolen story; please report.
[You drank at least five bottles of rare spirits] Kaz thought wryly as he remembered the stench of alcohol within the cottage as well as the various colorful bottles, all empty of course, strewn about the interior of Ahriman’s residence.
{Oh shut up. You too would have gotten a little loose if you were about to finish a lifetime project spanning 25 years. Anyways, the soul usually leaves the mortal plane for the arcane in about an hour. Powerful magisters can extend this time in order to linger a quite a bit longer. The vengeful souls of people with considerable willpower would also transform into ghosts within this time frame. The ultimate method of preservation would be the Lich Ritual. In this, I bind my soul to my bones. This allows me to retain all of my memories and magical power when I die, transforming myself into a Lich.}
[Yeah okay so what does this have to do with me? Unless..oh. Your body wasn’t in the circle but mine was. If what you’re saying is true that means your soul fused with my body?]
{Hey you’re pretty smart for a kid on the outskirts of the Empire. Are you sure you’ve never studied Magical Theory? Anyways I managed to retain my memories and some of my power but as I mentioned before, I expended most of that in saving your sorry life.}
Massaging his legs in order to restore some of the blood flow to them, Kaz grimaced at the situation.
[So what exactly is it that you want me to do? I don’t have the expertise to extract your soul from mine. In fact, I have absolutely no magical aptitude. My Father hired a wandering magister to test me for magical potential years ago and he found nothing.] Kaz could almost feel Ahriman wince when he said those words.
{I will admit that it’s a major setback, but I will take you as my apprentice. The beauty of necromancy is that you can constantly improve your magical power regardless of any set limit you were born with.}
[Really!?!? I thought that if somebody had no magical power to begin with then it is impossible for that person to become a magister.]
{Hmph. Then you are ignorant. What you call magical power is the accumulation of mana over time of a single person. It’s a bit like puberty in that it’s different for everybody but it stops after a set amount of development time. Even the mightiest of Klavanian or Janorian magisters cannot improve their raw magical power via their methods of training. They may only improve their skills in applying that power.}
[Then…how do necromancers develop their magical power? I don’t see how anybody can bypass their innate limit. Also, why wouldn’t there be more Necromancers if they can do this?]
{The magical art of Necromancy has long faded into the forgotten archives of time. The Maladorusi were the last great civilization to practice it, but they fell to infighting long ago. You think the Janaroians conquered all of their land? That was the land of the Maladorusi before the disappeared. As for your first question, I will give you a hint. Magical power is tied directly to one’s soul. Try to figure that one out while I take a short break. This headache is killing me.}
Although Kaz wondered how exactly an incorporeal spirit like Ahriman could conceivably be afflicted with a physical ailment such as headache, he thought about the connection between mana and the soul. After some time, Kaz came up with an answer that he thought was plausible.
[Ahriman. You said that magical power is connected to one’s soul. From what I’ve seen, necromancy is the magic of soul manipulation. Do necromancers steal the magical power of other people in order to grow their own?]
{Got it in one. Necromancy is the manipulation of souls and death energy. Death energy is what people who do not have magical power release upon death. Magisters release death energy, but should you also enslave their souls you would see a boost to your own magical power. Normal souls may also be enslaved, but it takes many to rival the power that a single magical soul can provide. Creature souls are different. Necromancers may enslave those as well, but they’re often hard to control because they’re feral.}
Kaz’s thoughts were in turmoil. Here was his chance to become more powerful. Thinking back of when he was being beaten mercilessly by the Janaroian sergeant, Kaz’s face darkened.
“I will never be that helpless ever again….” Kaz whispered, mostly to himself.
{Are you willing to become my apprentice, Kazimir? This will be a long and arduous path. Once you accept there will be no backing out.}
[…yes. Yes, I will become your apprentice in Necromancy. I will become stronger, strong enough so that I will never face the humiliation that I experienced yesterday ever again.]
{Hmm I like your determination, but we will see if it lasts. Now hold on, I need to transfer the remainder of my power to you. This will cause you to start magical power development, but will consume the rest of my leftover power. I lost most of it when the spirits bound to my body escaped after my death.} Ahriman concentrated, and then dumped the rest of his considerable personal mana into Kaz.
“Urk…guuuhhhh” Kaz felt a splitting pain in his head, just before the rest of his body burned with power. Kazimir’s blond hair and green eyes changed in an instant. His hair darkened to an auburn color, while his bright green eyes darkened to a forest green.
Power coursed through Kaz’s body, and for the first time in his life he could sense the energies of the surrounding area. He could tell that there were wolves just outside of the clearing, wary of the stench of death lingering among the dead bodies of killers. Kaz could sense the crows flying off in the distance, on their way to join their brethren still picking at the freshly rotten bodies of the recently deceased.
Kaz could feel the new pool of magical energy at his fingertips, begging to be used.