James winced as he pressed a cold hand to his bruised forehead. His cryomancy still needed some work to be useful, but for now it did well as a substitute for frozen peas. He looked to Harald, who was silent. The veteran was simply sitting there, taking the occasional sip from his flask.
Earlier, James had to stop him from killing the witch, who had surrendered once they had broken the dream spell on Harald. She had told him she was simply not paid enough to risk her life for this shit. Still, that didn’t stop Harald from his angry outburst, as he had swung the sword once he saw the crooked hat.
After some yelling, talking, and holding back, Harald had finally agreed to play nice. Now, he sat on his lonesome, recovering his wounds and slowly resting his tired body. James couldn’t blame the veteran for his reaction, as he himself had seen the hell the older man had gone through. There was going to be a time and place for James to discuss what had happened with Harald, but for now, the moment was still a sore spot. According to Faust, the angry outburst James felt in that dream resulted from Harald’s emotions seeping into the blond man. Still, he couldn’t help but feel that some of that rage was coming from himself. James knew first hand what losing control felt like and what happened in that dream felt all too natural to him.
He thought back to his own dream, when he was reliving a better version of life on Earth. While James was temporarily safe and sound in that world, his blissful ignorance had turned to seething rage once he had learned of his situation. James didn’t know what it was, but he hated the way his memories and past life were exploited. He hated the way his life was back then. Earth was a long time ago, even if it was nearly a year back. That it could’ve all been different was irrelevant to the blond man. His past life was gone now, with no way of going back to it.
He thought back to how he had broken out, his mind going to the image of Iendis floating above him. The demigoddess had spoken to him in such a surreal way that it was impossible to chalk the experience up as a fever dream. She had broken him out and had beckoned James to find her. Her words had made the otherworldly man wonder if she had been watching him for a while now, if she had always had her sights on him.
‘Don’t overthink it,’ Faust advised.
James nodded slowly. “Yeah, I shouldn’t get my thoughts caught up in things like this.” He had more important matters to attend to, such as finding that necromancer and getting it over with. James looked around the room, seeing how nearly everyone was injured in some way. Harald had bruises and cuts all over him, a result of his constant fighting with the skeletons and James.
Seamus was nursing bruises that were the fault of skeletons and his unconscious fight. Even the witch had some slashes and cuts on her robes, a remnant of her attempted containment of Seamus. Even James himself was injured, his shoulder wound still burning from the ointment he had rubbed in it. The only one who was unhurt was strangely Lilith, who yawned as she rubbed her eyes.
Her dream, according to the witch, was a memory of her childhood. Beyond some foggy details, the witch herself didn’t know what exactly the berserker dreamed of. Whatever it was, it seemed to have affected the berserker greatly. Lilith wasn’t lively as before. She sat with her knees to her chest, her eyes tired as she stared at the ground. It was a look that made James oddly sympathize with her.
“Alright,” James sighed. “The necromancer. Where is he?” He turned to the witch, who sighed.
“The captain’s quarters. At least what used to be it. It’s the lowest point of the ship, accessed by a secret hallway,” the witch explained. “He’s expecting you.”
“I know.” James stood up from his crate. He checked through his satchel and belt, making sure he still had his gear intact. “I can already expect undead slumbering towards me.”
“He’s much more powerful than you think. If he wanted you dead, he would’ve killed you off earlier,” the witch warned.
“Then why didn’t he?”
“It’s because he wants to study you. He knows what you are, what magic you harbor, and he wants it for himself.”
James stopped mid way through checking his potions. He looked at the spellcaster. “So he wants my body?”
“He wants to study you. Not just your body. He wants to observe the magic you and that spirit hold,” the witch explained.
James swallowed. “How do you suggest we approach him?”
“There is no right way. You either compromise or die fighting him,” the woman laughed. “He will get what he wants, no matter what.”
‘Bitch,’ Faust suddenly spoke. ‘That’s why she’s so carefree, despite surrendering. She knows that there’s no way we can win.’
The spirit’s anger seeped into James’ emotions, making the blond man himself pissed off. He clenched his fists, doing his best to hold the anger off.
“There has to be a way to beat him, right?” Seamus suddenly butted in. “A weakness of some sorts?”
“There is no weakness,” the witch denied. “He is smart, cunning, and always a step ahead. There is no way any of you can win.”
Harald suddenly stood up, scowling. “You cannot be serious. Every man has a weakness.”
“He is no ordinary man. This is someone who has defied death and the laws of nature. He has exploited magic to a degree that is borderline heretical to even Myr,” the witch explained. “There is no way any of you can beat him. If the Thieves Guild themselves can’t even touch him, what chance do you have?”
Harald and Seamus moved to argue, but were interrupted by a simple set of words spoken out by James.
“She’s probably right. There’s a good chance we won’t be able to beat him.”
Both of his friends stopped in their tracks. James turned to them, a look of grim acceptance on his expression. “So we’ll do what we can. We’ll give him what he wants.”
----------------------------------------
“James, is this really a good idea?” Seamus protested.
James looked back at the nervous young man, whose hand fidgeted with the handle on his sword.
“It’s the only good one I have,” he sighed. “If there was a better way of doing things, I would have already tried it.” He regretted resorting to playing into the necromancer’s games, but this was the only way forward.
They were all nearing the bottom of this improvised building, the quarters ahead being the last step towards their target. The witch was leading the way, but James kept close. He made sure she wouldn’t pull any tricks.
“Right through that door is the lab. If I’m a betting person, I’d say he’s already set up undead to attack you.”
“What? I thought he wanted me alive?” James looked at the witch in bewilderment.
“He does. He just wants to test your strength. Malik likes to test things to their breaking limit,” she revealed.
“This is a mistake,” Harald muttered, breaking his long silence. “Can’t you see James? This is all a bluff to make you think this necromancer is powerful.” The veteran’s comment struck a nerve in the witch as she turned to him in anger.
“It isn’t a bluff! You think I work with that psychopath for his personality? Take a moment to think about your situation. The Thieves Guild sent you here to die! I’m sure they omitted the fact that they had lost countless men trying to take down the man in that room!” She pointed at the door. “Markov played you all for fools! He knew the risks and sent you here, regardless. The only reason my boss left you alive was to study your friend here. If he wasn’t so interested, he would’ve killed you all off much sooner.”
The witch’s words hung in the air, shutting Harald up.
James sighed. “You think he’ll let us live? Your boss?”
“It depends. If he’s in a good mood and likes what he sees, he might. If you piss him off and waste his time, it won’t end well for any of us,” the young woman muttered.
“Of course,” James murmured as he looked at the door once more. He took a couple more deep breaths, mentally preparing himself. He took a step forward and opened the door.
The room before him was lit with numerous sources of light. Some of it came from lanterns that hung around the ceiling, while others emanated from the bottles of mysterious liquids that were sorted on nearby shelves. It was much roomier than James had expected, the open area was comparatively bigger than most rooms in this ship.
The tables and shelves were all pushed to the edges of the room, leaving an open space on the floor. James recognized this format as the same one Dahlia used for her hut back when he had first met her. Sure enough, once examining the floor, he saw a carved runic circle, its layout bigger than the one back in the shaman’s home.
Across from the room, on the other side of the circle, sat a man in dark robes. The first thing James noticed was his hair. It was blond, but not like James’ hair. The color bordered on white, any semblance of vibrancy nearly gone. It was also blasted back, as if he had been hit with high winds. The necromancer’s eyes were a piercing black, his gaze uncomfortably set upon James. His clean-shaven face was marked with faint black lines that ran across his cheek, which made his gaunt look pop out.
“You must be James!” He greeted with a wave.
His tone was unexpected. He sounded excited, like a child giddy at the thought of a new toy.
“You are the necromancer?” James asked as he awkwardly waved back.
“No need to get formal. Call me Malik,” the robed man introduced himself with a grand gesture. “I have been eagerly waiting for you, watching your every move.” Malik stood from his desk. “But I’m sure you know that already, since Lydia herself has outed me for the eccentric man that I am.” The necromancer grinned.
“Yeah…” James wasn’t sure what to make of this.
“She gave you quite the challenge, didn’t she? Dream weaving, what a complicated mess that is. Yet you broke out! Well, you and that friend of yours. The younger man, he is one case study I like to get to another time…”
“Uh…”
“Anyway!” Malik clapped his hands. “You are here to finally ‘beat’ me! To free your friends in the Thieves Guild and to, of course, move on with your life. But I cannot let you leave. Not yet.”
James stepped forward. “What is it you want from me?”
“Lots of things. In fact, I want everything about you!” Malik stepped closer to James, his hands clasped together. “I so badly want to dissect your ley lines, to explore that interesting mind of yours!” The blond man noted how Malik circled around the runic carving in the center, his feet shimmying around it.
“But first, I must see if you truly are a specimen worthy of studying,” the necromancer muttered, his tone of excitement faltering.
“Wait, what? The hell are you saying?” Just as James protested, Malik had already snapped his fingers.
‘Look out!’ Faust’s warning caught James off guard, causing the blond man to react too late.
A brutish figure came in from the darkness, seemingly out of nowhere. It kicked James back, sending him stumbling back into the center of the room. Before he could even process what was happening, Malik had already spoken the words,
“Rune Circle: Encase.”
The circle beneath James lit up with magical power, lighting up the room in its glow. A large dome encased the blond man in the circle. He could see how his friends rushed in through the doors, desperate to help. Yet they wouldn’t be able to.
“Shadow Bind,” Malik chanted out. Black tongues of wispy fog crawled out of the ground below the two men and the berserker, binding them against their wills.
“Dammit!” James moved to get up, but his passage was blocked by the bulky figure that had attacked him in the first place. He blinked as he stared at the undead creature that lumbered before him. Its skin was shriveled and black, yet it wasn’t covered in crystals like the abominations of before. It was a proper undead, summoned by the necromancers and warlocks of this world. The thing’s eyes were lit up with the magic that kept it up, its green glow enough to showcase the outline of its skull.
“Consider this as a test. If you win, I shall spare your friends! Lose and… well, let’s just say that I’m low on bodies to use as summons,” Malik called out.
James didn’t respond to the necromancer. He could only stare at the draugr before him, its lumbering form breathing heavily.
James recalled what Dahlia had told him about them. Draugr were common undead, often lumped in with common zombies and skeletons. Yet they had one distinguishable feature that set them apart. Draugrs were past warriors, the small remnants of their spirits still holding onto their battle instincts.
James quickly backed away, just in time to avoid a strike that would’ve proved fatal. Zombies and skeletons followed basic combat, if at all. From what James knew, those undead didn’t have an ounce of intelligence behind them. This undead before him, however, remembered how to fight.
The draugr roared as it rushed James, its hands clenched up in fists. James quickly dodged once more, his hand moving to grab at his sword. In one fell swipe, he had both unsheathed it and slashed at the undead’s stomach.
No effect. Despite a long gash in its guts, the draugr seemed unaffected.
“Shit.” James backed away slowly. He held his sword in both hands, his mind running through options. The draugr didn’t give him a chance to think. It lunged at James with battle lust, its fists aiming to deal direct blows at the blond man’s head. James dodged the attacks once more, dropping low to avoid them. Unfortunately, he didn’t account for kicks. The draugr’s foot came up as quickly as he had dropped, the force of its impact sending James rolling across the floor.
For a second, James couldn’t breathe right. He was taking quick breaths, his lungs feeling as if something heavy was pressing against them. Soon enough, however, he got it under control.
‘Any tips?’ He asked Faust in desperation.
‘I… I don’t know. That thing is smart. It’s durable, and it has a strength advantage. I would suggest doing a mind clash, but… I don’t think that thing has a sensible mind to begin with.’
James spat onto the floor, his hand clenching his short sword. “Mind clash, it is then. It’s our only chance,” he muttered.
‘It has no mind…’
“It’s a draugr. Draugrs have their battle instincts left over from their previous lives.” James reminded Faust.
‘Yes, but those are instincts, James. Not their conscious or spirit.’
“Well, it has to be worth a shot. I don’t see any other way of taking it down with our current situation.” James could feel his Carapace spell take its toll on his body, his own breath now visible in puffs of steam.
James stood back up, his left hand pulling his cloak off to reveal his partial gambeson that was fitted under chainmail. He was going to overheat if he had that on any longer.
Now free of his wool cape, James took a deep breath. He readied himself for his fight against the draugr, hoping to all the gods above that he wouldn’t straight up die. Once he had his breathing under control, James focused ahead and ran.
He rushed the draugr, who raised both arms to defend itself. James clicked his tongue in frustration, but kept going. By the time had reached his target, the draugr had already covered his vital head, making sure that the blond man couldn’t strike at it. James didn’t care. Using all his strength, he swung at its arm. His blade only made it halfway before it hit bone, causing the draugr to roar in anger. It moved to grab James, but he had already backed away, leaving his sword stuck inside the undead’s flesh. James pulled out his hand ax from his belt before he rushed the draugr once again.
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James leaped at the undead creature, ready to strike. His ax made a thwacking sound as it stuck to the draugr’s left eye, sending specks of black blood everywhere. While holding on, he grabbed at the draugr’s head, focusing everything into the upcoming clash.
Nothing.
James blinked. He focused his will, doing his best to force himself into the thing’s mind. Nothing. James felt panic dawning on him, his heart beating fast as he strained to pull his ax out. Before he could fully escape, the draugr grabbed James with both arms. It held him in a tight hug, its strength slowly crushing the man.
“Agh! Fuck!” James gritted his teeth as he raised his ax. He hacked at the thing’s head once more, hoping to actually kill it before it fully crushed his organs and ribs. It didn’t seem to let up, its hold tightening even more as James feebly hacked at its skull.
“Dammit! No…!” James couldn’t breathe, his lungs slowly losing the ability to expand.
‘James! You have to break out!’
‘I’m trying! Nothing is working!’
James kicked and punched, doing everything in his power to get the draugr to loosen its hold. Nothing worked. It got to where blood had made itself present in James’ mouth, the taste of copper overwhelming. By then, a horrifying thought dawned on him. He was going to die and there was nothing he could do about it.
“Shame,” Malik sighed. “I thought there might have been more to you.”
James couldn’t process the words the necromancer had spoken, his mind slowly going blank as pain overwhelmed him. His vision was slowly becoming obscured, his breathing becoming painful as he tried to hold on.
‘This… This is how I die?’ James thought to himself. He couldn’t even hear Faust’s words as the spirit screamed at him. Was this how his journey ended? James knew he would not live long in this world, but was his end really going to be over this? Over a bunch of thieves who had sent him to die?
James gritted his teeth.
‘No… Not like this!’
He could feel how his rage seethed into his thoughts, his jaw clenching with such force that it sent sharp pains.
‘I’m going out on my own terms! Not on some fucking errand for a thief!’
James could feel his vigor return slowly, his anger breathing new life into him. The blood in his mouth was now sickeningly sweet, its metallic tinge welcoming to James.
The blond man grabbed at the draugr that was crushing him, his eyes burning with such a rage that it actually stunned the undead. James stared into the creature’s eyes, his bandaged hand gripping onto its head with summoned strength.
“Release me!” He commanded, his seething anger adding power to his words. The draugr stared at James with shock, its arms suddenly releasing the clan leader from its grasp.
James landed on the floor unceremoniously, his breathing heavy as he tried to get it under control. His body felt like shit, the pain nigh unbearable. James gritted his teeth as he grabbed at a small health potion in his satchel. It was much smaller and cheaper than the real thing, only a quarter the size of a regular vial. James had kept it hidden deep in his satchel for emergencies.
James ripped its wax seal off before he downed it in one go. His body slowly felt its effects soon after, his compressed organs slowly beginning to go back to normal. If he lived through this, he would need to buy a bigger vial.
Slowly, James stood back, his hand clenching tightly to his ax. He looked up at the draugr before him, which stared at the blond man. James soon realized that the thing was afraid of him. At least, that’s what its glowing eyes seem to tell. Now that he looked at the undead, the clan leader noticed how the green glow behind its eyes was now a shade of blue, mimicking James’ own eyes.
The undead took a step back from James, its free hand moving to pull the sword out of its arm. It clanged on the floor, black blood staining it. James stared at the draugr in confusion.
‘It’s not attacking anymore. Did my plan work?’
He genuinely wondered if his mind clash worked, as the thing before him was no longer hostile.
‘I… I think so? I feel disoriented. Everything hurts.’ Faust’s voice sounded just as how the blond man felt. Shitty.
James swallowed. He took a step towards the draugr, locking eyes with it once more.
“Kneel,” he commanded. The draugr stared at James blankly, unaffected by his words. James furrowed his brow before he focused his will once more.
‘Faust, lend me your strength for a bit.’
He took a deep breath this time, his eyes burning with magic like before.
“Kneel,” James commanded, his voice echoing in the room.
The draugr physically recoiled from the command, now moving to follow James’ word. It knelt before him, hiding its gaze from the clan leader.
“By the abyss, you’ve done it!” Malik shouted out in surprise. James looked at the necromancer, who was excitedly watching from the sidelines. “Such power in you… I must learn more!” The crazed man formed his fingers into a rune that was familiar to James.
“Dispel!”
The rune circle beneath their feet suddenly died out, its magic quickly fading as the Dispel rune did its job.
Malik rushed over to James, but was stopped when the blond man raised a bloodied sword at him.
“Stay back,” James threatened. “I did your little test. Now allow me and my friends safe passage out of here!” Despite his raised weapon, Malik didn’t seem all too bothered.
The necromancer crossed his arms. “You won. Greatly so.” Malik gestured to the kneeling draugr. “Control of the undead is not a common skill. However, I only said your friends can go free.” He snapped his fingers as to punctuate his words. The shadow fog that held Harald, Seamus, and Lilith suddenly dissipated, letting the three hit the floor.
“You, on the other hand, shall be my little experiment,” Malik explained.
“Wait, what?” James blinked.
“Did you expect me to study you alive as you were? Well, you’re half right. I’m going to take you apart and study whatever makes you tick!” The necromancer sounded giddy with delight. James felt sick to his stomach that such a man like this could be so twisted. “I mean, can you really blame me? You are a specimen truly worthy of dissecting! The many types of magic I can sense from here are making me excited to figure out your ley lines!”
“Wait!” James raised a hand to the necromancer. He rapidly tried to think of anything to say. Anything that can save him from getting picked apart on an operating table. Malik was a goddamn psychopath, ready to gut James open and examine his insides at a moment’s notice.
“You can’t dissect me… uh… I uh…” He was stalling now, his inner thoughts going insane over what to say.
‘Think of something!’ He shouted to Faust.
‘What is there to say?! Even if we tell him how we ended up like this, he’ll still be wanting to take us apart!’
James cursed mentally, his hands clenching into tight fists.
Then, an idea came across him.
“You’ll disrupt it!” he suddenly shouted to Malik.
The necromancer raised an eyebrow. “Disrupt what?”
“The bond between me and my spirit,” James started. “Our situation was created months back, around the last Frost solstice. I was dying, and a shaman forced a spirit into my corpse.” James raised a hand to his chest. “It healed my initial wound, but it left my body home to two minds. A month after this incident, we fought against a knight. In a desperate bid, we overloaded his ley lines, killing him,” he explained. “That moment had consequences. It gave me this arm that was inflicted with basic cryomancy.” James showed his bandaged hand. “The act strained our ley lines to its limits, weakening our bond. As a result, my body is now on a deadline.”
“Deadline?”
“In three months, my bond with the other spirit will be gone, reopening my wound and killing me,” James revealed. Malik stared at James with surprise, his gaze lowering. There was a moment of silence, the only sound being that of the rest of the blonde man’s party catching their breaths.
“You’re not lying,” Malik muttered, his focus moving back up to James’ face. “Your heart has a scar on it, nearly impossible to heal without a cleric. Your ley lines seem at conflict too, they’re flickering. No lie.”
‘He can see my organs?!’ James mentally cursed.
“You can’t dissect me. You can’t kill me. It’ll disrupt the already weakened bond in my body. You’ll lose what you’re looking for,” James reiterated.
Malik nodded slowly, his hand moving to rub at his chin. “Yes, but your body will still have remnants of the magic that it held. Even dead, you’ll still be useful.”
James felt a cold shiver run down his spine. “But you need to study me while I’m alive, right?” He pressed.
Malik’s expression narrowed. “Yes…”
“Then I’ll do whatever tests you need me to do. Trials, situations, anything you think can allow you to study me,” James offered.
Malik frowned. “That will be redundant. The test I gave you earlier was to see how you would perform under pressure. If I would try to fabricate it again, it might dull the result since you would expect it,” Malik groaned. He slowly rotated his head around his shoulders, muttering incoherently to himself.
Before long, he finally stopped. “Ah! I have it.” The necromancer grinned. “How’s this? I will accompany you everywhere you go.”
“What?”
“I will watch and study you closely out there. Life itself is unpredictable, so imagine the scenarios that can happen!” Malik shouted with glee. “I shall see how you evolve out there, how you react and deal with situations. Not just that, but judging from your worn out gear, you must come across exciting scenarios all the time!” The necromancer was getting giddy with excitement once more, his hands making grand gestures. “The bodies that will fall in your wake. Gods imagine the souls I’ll take! Oh, it will be fun!”
James couldn’t help but stare at the necromancer. This was the last thing he had expected. It was also the last thing he wanted. Having someone as twisted as him in his party? James didn’t want to imagine the dark arts this man would commit on the field.
“Malik, I really don’t want to intrude on your excitement but—”
“That is the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard!” a female voice sounded out. James and Malik turned to the witch, who had been watching from the entrance this entire time.
“You are one of the smartest spellcasters I’ve ever met and yet you are throwing away your studies and projects to travel with him?!” The witch gestured to James, who was a mess of sweat and blood. “He can perform certain types of magic early and that’s got you excited enough to leave everything behind?!”
“It’s not just that, Lydia! He is more than that! You can’t see it, but James is everything I’ve been working hard for. He is the next step in my pursuit. I know it!” Malik exclaimed.
James watched as the two argued and shouted over each other. He thought about what Malik wanted. James couldn’t really deny the necromancer’s request. He had seen firsthand what kind of power he held, and it would not be a smart move to tell the twisted man off. James brainstormed for a few seconds, focusing on what he should do.
‘I have an idea,’ Faust muttered.
James raised an eyebrow at the spirit’s words. ‘Tell me.’
After some consulting and compromising with the spirit, James and Faust came up with an idea. He looked at Malik, who finally managed to get the witch off his back.
“So, will you take me along?” The necromancer asked.
‘He makes it sound like I have a choice…’
“You can come along. As long as you accept my conditions,” James said slowly.
“Conditions?” Malik tilted his head.
“Yes. I have conditions, especially when it comes to fighting.” James raised a bandaged finger. “First one. No killing unless it is absolutely necessary.”
“What counts as absolutely necessary?”
“Necessary in the sense that you don’t kill unless your or an ally’s life is on the line,” James explained.
Malik sighed in frustration but nodded. “Fine. I’ll agree with that.”
James raised another finger. “Second. You will not simply stand by if me or my people are attacked. You will defend them.”
“A pointless condition, but fine.” The necromancer waved it off.
“Third. You will not defile any bodies or use them as fodder for your magic.”
“That is unreasonable!” Malik shouted suddenly. That seemed to do it for him. His calm demeanor from before had shattered immediately, his arms now flailing as if he was a toddler being denied candy. “How can you expect me to fight if I cannot have access to bodies! I am a necromancer for Dremor’s sake!”
James sighed at Malik’s outburst. He grinded his teeth in frustration before he muttered, “Fine. You can use the bodies of any non-humanoids we kill.”
Malik narrowed his gaze. “You cannot be serious. I get the bodies of every dead man we encountered,” he bartered.
“The bodies of non-humanoids, including orcs and goblins.” James couldn’t help but feel a tinge of disgust at this conversation. They were now arguing over what bodies were acceptable to defile.
“Every humanoid we kill,” Malik argued once more.
James furrowed his brow. “You can have the bodies of the enemies we kill. Nothing more. Nothing less. You cannot kill an enemy just for their body. You will not defile the corpses of allies or non-combatants. This is where I draw my line.” He felt sick to his stomach at the prospect of Malik tarnishing bodies, but he couldn’t settle for less. The last thing James wanted was another fight with an advanced spellcaster.
“Rules of engagement I see. Fine. I shall only use the bodies of our enemies. I will spare the ones of your allies and others. But…” Malik raised a finger. “When you eventually die. I shall have your body.”
“What?”
“Your body. Once you are dead, I can do what I want with it.” The necromancer was serious, his tone no longer excited. “I will agree to every other term you may have for me. I will follow your orders as long as they don’t interfere with my core beliefs and our agreements. I will do everything in my power to keep you and your allies safe. All I ask of you is that you allow me to take your body in the event you die or are killed in battle.”
James could only stare at Malik, who patiently waited for an answer. There was a long silence, with the blond man thinking over his choices. Finally, he responded, “Do you swear to uphold your part of the bargain?”
“I will and I can make it so that it is bound by blood,” Malik responded.
“Bound with blood?”
“A pact if you will.” The necromancer held out his hand to James. Without warning, he stabbed at his palm with a knife. The act made the blond man flinch, his thoughts going manic.
‘What the fuck?!’
Dark blood oozed out of Malik’s hand, dripping onto the floor below. The necromancer showed no sign of pain as he chanted a couple of choice words out, their pronunciation entirely foreign to James. In an instant, a purple rune appeared above the necromancer’s bleeding palm, its glow illuminating both men.
“Stab your hand and shake mine. Then repeat your terms to me and I will repeat mine to you. Once we both accept, the pact will be solidified.”
“Pact?”
“Our words will be bound to magic. If any of us even try to violate the other’s terms, they meet a painful force that holds them back. It is powerful magic, only undone when both parties want out of it.”
James stared at the purple rune. “Are you sure it’ll work?”
“I am positive. It’s the same one I used on Lydia,” Malik grinned as he raised his free hand, revealing a burnt scar on it. “It is fool proof and we both get what we want. I get to have your body and you get to have a powerful necromancer on your side.”
James considered saying no. It was all too bizarre. Too shady. Yet, if Malik was true to his word, he would have no choice but to protect James and his friends, regardless of how he felt. The pact would force him to do so. Still, he was giving his body up to the necromancer. That didn’t sit right with him.
‘I won’t stop you James, no matter what you choose. It’s a choice you must make on your own,’ Faust muttered, ruling himself out of the decision making.
James clenched his jaw. ‘Is my body really more important than my friends?’
He thought back to Yorktown and the allies he still had. Hell, he still had the mercenaries and Dimitri waiting back at the guild for him. The people he cared for were worth more than a body he was going to lose regardless.
James looked at Malik straight in the eye. He switched his ax to his left, before using it to cut open his right palm. James winced as he did so, the cold bite of the ax’s edge producing a line of blood that slowly dripped down his fingers.
“My terms. No negotiations. You get your bodies, including my own, but you are sworn to follow me and protect my friends and my people.”
“Agreed.” Malik grinned as James clasped at his bleeding hand. “Now, do what I do.”
Malik raised his free hand, forming a rune with his thumb and middle fingers. “I, Malik Ymir, swear to uphold your terms and wishes.”
James followed the necromancer’s lead, his bandaged hand forming the same rune opposite of Malik’s. “I, James Holter, swear to uphold our terms and pact.”
Once those words left his lips, a shock overcame James. His body shivered as purple flames appeared on his and Malik’s hands. It engulfed their handshake for a moment before snuffing out as quickly as it had appeared. James winced as he felt something burn at his cut palm, the pain nearly unbearable. Malik seemed to have experienced this, as he clenched his jaw tightly. Yet, while James was gritting his teeth in pain, the necromancer was laughing maniacally. He was obviously in grueling pain, his laughs strained as he grinned ferociously.
Both of their hands would finally be separated after what seemed like forever, with James stumbling back in pain. He looked at his palm, which displayed his cauterized wound. Upon inspecting, however, James could swear he saw the outline of a runic symbol traced upon his palm.
“The pact is made, James Holter,” Malik called out, his voice as joyous as ever. “What would you have your necromancer do?”
James looked to the man before him, who seemed to be in a different light. For a moment, he could see the way the necromancer saw himself. A man of magical wonder, his eyes glinting with possibility and maniacal intentions. Malik was a man of discovery, willing to do anything to learn more and to unlock secrets previously buried.
The young clan leader stood up straight, his gaze moving to his friends. They all stared at him in surprise and shock, their faces painted with mixed emotions. It was as if they were looking at someone else, despite James being in their focus. He ignored their looks, his focus going back to the matter at hand.
“There is one thing left to do now, Malik. That is to pay the Thieves Guild a little visit.”