Path of the Necromancer Book 1 (A LootRPG Series)

by Deck Davis

  “It’s opening up,” he said. “Go scout ahead, Lud.”

  Ludwig prowled north, his body invisible when he moved out of range of Jakub’s sword. The only thing of him that Jakub could see now was his glowing orange eyes, but even those grew dimmer until he lost sight of his hound altogether.

  He turned around, pushing his sword into the darkness behind him to make sure nothing had snuck up on him. The flames illuminated on empty space.

  I’m being stupid.

  Soon a twin pair of orange eyes approached him.

  “There’s a room ahead,” said Ludwig. “There’s something in there.”

  “Is it hostile?”

  “It’s a child.”

  12

  Orange eyes and a swishing tail were his guides as he followed Ludwig through the tunnel to where it widened, and then to a room.

  At two feet taller than him, the higher ceiling lessened his claustrophobia but he still imagined how many tons of mud and stone were above his head, and it was hard not to think of the structure cracking and the heap raining down on him.

  The room was a vacuum of light, with only Jakub’s sword as illumination. There wasn’t much there except a pile of glass bottles and broken furniture against one of the walls from where the outpost soldiers probably dumped their crap.

  “Where’s the kid?” asked Jakub.

  “Over in the corner.”

  “He’s definitely undead?”

  Ludwig nodded.

  “Was it necromancy?”

  “He doesn’t give off the same stink as when they do it in the academy. Something else brought him back.”

  If that was Ludwig’s judgment, then it was as much as a truth as if it came out of the mouth of the Holy Bard himself. After living in the Greylands so long and being bound to Jakub, Ludwig knew the scent of necromancy. Or at least, the sort that the academy practiced.

  After all, it was a mental conceit of Jakub’s that he talked about academy necromancy as if it was the only type, wasn’t it? It might have been the most structured form, but there were other kinds out there.

  At least Ludwig knew what Jakub meant when he said ‘necromancy’.

  “Is the boy dangerous?” said Jakub.

  “He’s watching you, but he isn’t moving. He doesn’t seem worried about us,” said Ludwig.

  Jakub didn’t want to see the undead child who was apparently watching him from the shadows, because, well, who would? Standing in ignorance wasn’t much better.

  His eyes adjusted further to the black of the room, revealing the dim outlines of torches on the walls east and west of him. He used his flaming sword to light them both, and a flicker of light filled the room.

  With the added illumination, he took out the rags and extinguished the flame on his sword so he could save the oil for the journey out of the basement.

  Then, with the room lit, he looked for the child.

  The boy was sitting in the north east corner of the room with his back against the wall. His hair was overgrown and fused together by grime and sweat. To say he was pale would have undersold how chalk-white the boy’s skin was. Jakub could have picked him up and used him and his insanely white skin as a torch.

  His skin wasn’t the strangest thing about him.

  The child was missing his right eye, half-his left ear, and his chest was marked by gouges and cuts of different sizes and lengths. He’d been stabbed and ripped apart by more than one knife.

  It was a problem with necromancy – all kinds, not just academy -that when you raised someone from the dead, their physical form came back to the world in the state it had left it. As the body is in death, so it is in resurrection, was the academy’s saying.

  As the body is in death, so it is in resurrection.

  “What the hell happened to his kid?” said Jakub, feeling numb. While this boy had been alive, someone had visited this mutilation on him. His eye, ear, chest. It made him sick to think about it.

  Ludwig slunk by his legs and nuzzled them with concern, though Jakub couldn’t actually feel his friend’s spectral comforts.

  So many thoughts hammered through his mind that his training failed him entirely.

  The murder of a child in such a way. So many cuts, stabs, tears.

  There was no chance of him mastering the flashes of questions and words and ideas in his head, no way of pushing them beneath the surface of his inner lake of calm.

  Instead he grasped onto another aspect of his training; a mental failsafe taught to him by instructor Irvine.

  When it was impossible to master your thoughts, then you had to let them run their course. Let them run out of steam.

  So, he let the questions crash through his mind.

  Was he seeing things? Was there something in the air of the basement that had distorted his brain? He knew of airborne toxins that could produce such a thing.

  Maybe there was an illusionist nearby, and this was an elaborate tapestry of light formed to confuse Jakub, to reduce him to confusion here in the basement.

  That didn’t ring true either; when magic was cast it gave off the aroma of spent mana, and Jakub would have been able to smell it. Sure, illusionists could cast spells to cover the smell of mana so that evidence of their spells was disguised, but they couldn’t remove a smell entirely; they could only disguise it.

  If an illusionist had worked his craft here, there would be a strong smell all the same. Maybe he’d make the spent mana smell like honey, or berries, or something foul like shit or mold.

  The only thing Jakub could smell was a vague earthy smell, and that was to be expected in an underground cavern of dirt.

  So, it wasn’t a toxin, or the hallucinations would be much stronger and varied, and it wasn’t an illusionist.

  He was no closer to an answer, but letting his thoughts run away with themselves had accomplished something, at least; he restored the calm in his mind.

  “Jakub?” said Ludwig. “Are you okay? You’ve gone pale.”

  “One second,” said Jakub. Then he waved at the boy. “Are you okay?” he asked him.

  The boy blinked, but said nothing.

  Ludwig nudged Jakob’s leg. “There’s something wrong with this place.”

  “Who the hell did this to him?” asked Jakub.

  “Who brought him back, too?” said Ludwig. “You don’t think…”

  “What?”

  “That whoever killed him, they brought him back so they could do it again. Over and over, kill him, bring him back. Kill him…”

  “No,” said Jakub. “To bring a person back, you have to get the equivalent value of soul essence. That would take too long to get. I want to find whoever brought him back. Resurrecting a kid in a state like this and then leaving him…who would do that? It’s sick.”

  He was tempted to cast Last Rites on the boy and see if he could find out how he died, but he couldn’t spare the soul essence. It would have to wait.

  “We should go. I don’t like it here.”

  “No. We need to get him out of here and work things out from there. I hate it here, so I can’t imagine how the boy feels.”

  As Jakub worked up the courage to cross the room and approach the child, he heard a noise.

  There was a rumbling sound to his left and right, and two panels, one on the east wall the other on the west, were opening.

  Behind the panels was fresh darkness, and more basement tunnels, and from that new darkness came two creatures.

  13

  They were humanoid in form but with overlong limbs stretching off smaller torsos, like tree branches made from flesh. Their skin was pale and cracked, as if they lived entirely without moisture.

  They were horrible to look at, but most of their horror was saved more their faces which were smooth - too smooth - with gouges where their eyes, nose and mouth should be.

  They lurched toward Jakub, overstretching with each step. They raised their hands to reveal claws, each one the size of a dagger.

  They were
like no creature Madam Lolo had ever taught him about, but he didn’t need an intimate knowledge of them to know they were hostile. The grunts from their mouth gouges and the tensing of their claw-capped hands told him as much.

  He sucked in his breath and held it in his lungs, fighting against the panic that the beasts instilled in him. He only had a second to figure out how he was going to fight them.

  Ludwig reared at one and let out a demonic howl, giving the creature pause.

  “Distract that one,” said Jakub. “They don’t know that you can’t hurt them.”

  While Ludwig prowled toward one creature, Jakub faced the other. He took out his flintstone and sparked the oil on his blade until flames flared on it.

  The creature took an oversized step. One of these was all it needed to get in front of him. Putrid breath left its nostrils and a growl left its mouth.

  Jakub put his weight onto his right foot and watched for movements.

  It swung out with its claw.

  There was a whoosh of air as a claw-capped hand swooped at his face, but Jakub moved his head to the side, letting the claws miss him.

  The thing was fast, alright. It was the narrowest of margins. Just an inch, if that. And the claws…he didn’t want to imagine what damage they’d do. They looked like they could tear through his skin.

  Now that he knew what the creature could do, there was no way he’d give it another chance.

  He held his sword aloft. He imagined the flames on its tip as flickering waves of courage, and pictured them drifting into his mouth with every breath, emboldening him.

  It was another of instructor Irvine’s mental tricks, and it seemed he’d learned this one well, because he puffed out his chest with each breath and even forced himself to smile.

  It might look stupid, Irvine had told them, but when an enemy sees you smile, he loses heart.

  To his right, the second creature shuffled toward Ludwig. It wouldn’t take the creature long to learn that Jakub’s demonic hound couldn’t actually hurt it.

  He had to work fast, and he knew what to do.

  “Jakub!” said Ludwig.

  Before he could move, a limb flew at him. He pivoted to the side, but not quick enough to avoid it.

  Claws tore through his overcoat and gouged into his torso on his right side.

  “Jakub, are you alright?” said Ludwig.

  Pain burned through him, the tremors of it so strong he had to grip his blade tighter, or he’d drop it.

  “I’m okay,” he said, through clenched teeth.

  The creature took another step but not toward him; this time it maneuvered at a different angle, as though it was able to twist its body on an axis. Before he knew it, the creature was beside him.

  It made a strange grunt now; a laugh that echoed against the walls.

  Laugh at this, you tree-armed bastard, he thought.

  He smashed the hilt of his sword into its face, pushing it away from him.

  The creature lost its balance, only just finding it to avoid falling onto its back.

  His breath caught hard in his chest now, and his pulse pounded a frantic beat. Fresh waves of burning pain sung through his torso, and the draught blew where his overcoat had ripped.

  As the creature tensed its claws, Jacob took his vial of fire oil from his bag. There was no time to uncork it; instead, he flung it at the creature.

  The glass shattered on its face. Oil dripped down its forehead and into its eye gouges. It trickled over its lips, chin and then onto its chest, running in rivulets across its body.

  It wiped at the oil on its face, but only succeeded in spreading it on its hands and cheeks.

  Jakub held his sword with the blade facing out so that the flames flickered ahead of him.

  He aimed a horizontal strike at the creature’s body. Where the blade met flesh it cut clean through, and the flames ignited the oil on the creature’s skin, sending streams of burning orange and red over its body.

  Its shriek echoed from wall to wall as the creature, now aflame, ignored Jakub and ran in manic steps across the room, screaming and burning and filling the basement with the smell of burning skin.

  It smashed into the wall and fell to the ground, where it rolled over three times to try and put out the flames.

  The fire oil was too strong, and it burned on relentlessly until the creature lay still on the ground, the flames on it lighting up the room like a pyre.

  “Watch out, Jakub!” said Ludwig.

  Any sense of victory was shattered when agony scorched through his thigh. His right leg buckled, and he lost his balance and smashed into the ground knee first, sending a jolt of pain through his leg.

  Pain burned in his torso and knee but also on his thigh, where his trousers were ripped and blood seeped from a wound.

  “I’m sorry,” said Ludwig. “It must have worked out I can’t hurt it.”

  The creature dragged its claws across the ground without even bending down. Its eyes gouges were fixed on Jakub, and its mouth was set in a grin.

  “Get away from him,” said Ludwig. “Back!”

  The demonic hound roared at the creature, but it was no use.

  Jakub tried to stand. He had the healing salve in his bag, but he didn’t have time to use it. Without that, he could only grit his teeth and force himself through the pain as blood leaked from his torso and his thigh.

  In one step the creature was on him again. A claw came his way so fast it was a blur.

  Jakub slashed out on instinct, and a jolt ran up his arm as the blade met resistance.

  The creature’s claw fell onto the ground, blood spurting from the end. Every time it wailed it sent out puffs of rotten air from the gouge in its face.

  But even with one limb gone and blood spurting from its stump, it still walked on.

  “Unbelievable,” said Jakub.

  It hit out with its good arm, and Jakub lifted his blade but he was so tired he could only deflect the blow. Sweat dripped into his eyes, and blood rushed to his cheeks.

  I can’t keep this up. I need to end it.

  Fatigue weighed on him, mixing with the pain and making him light-headed. He was trained in the elements of swordplay but his body wasn’t conditioned for long bouts; he was a necromancer, for hell’s sake, not a warrior.

  As the blood dripped from him and his head fogged, he wondered if this was the end.

  With every step of the creature, Jakub backed up further until his back hit the wall.

  Another claw swooshed at him, and Jakub managed to raise his sword to meet it. The force was only enough to deflect it.

  His biceps ached.

  I can’t do this much longer.

  “Jakub! Sword up!” said Ludwig.

  He deflected a second strike, and then a third, and then he knew his energy was spent.

  “I’m done,” he said aloud, unsure whether it was for his own benefit or Ludwig’s.

  As the creature raised its claw for the last time, a figure leapt onto its back.

  It was the boy. He had his arms around the creature’s neck so that he was straddling him, and he dug his fingers into the creature’s eye gouges.

  Summoning one last burst of energy, Jakub ran his black, flaming sword through its belly, cracking through skin until he reached its innards.

  He brought the sword upwards, tearing through the creature’s bones and spreading a cut across its body.

  Blood and sinews and guts slopped out of it, splattering on the stone.

  Jakub watched long enough to see the creature smash face-first into the ground, and then he shut his eyes and let his breaths catch up with him.

  14

  He was broken, tired, and trembling with agony, but it was useless to try and fight through it.

  Just as Instructor Irvine had taught him and the other necromancers in the academy, Jakub accepted the pain, knowing that it would take less energy to allow it free reign in his body than to fight it.

  Pain in my thigh. Pain on my side.r />
  My head is banging, and my arms ache.

  It was a lot of pain to catalogue, but he did it, letting the agony go where it wanted.

  This made his shock response kick in, and in turn the pain numbed. Even so, cold spread across his body, concentrating in the wounds on his torso and his thigh.

  The wounds looked worse than they actually were. He was losing blood, but not pints of it. It wasn’t as if the creature’s claws had cut an artery, and with a bit of pressure, he could stop the flow. Not a problem.

  Course, there was infection to worry about, but that was further down the line. He needed to patch himself up enough to get back to Kortho and the Killeshi woman.

  Ludwig kneeled by his side, his orange eyes wide. “That looks bad,” he said.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “We need to get you some help. We need the best doctor in the land, I don’t want to lose you, Jakub!”

  “Calm down, Lud. I’ve done worse to myself before now. Remember when one of the alchemist kids brewed a load of moonshine and I drank it and then jumped out of the third floor window trying to show off?”

  “I guess…What can I do?”

  “Nothing, boy. I’m sorry, but I’m gonna have to fade you.”

  “Now? But Jakub-”

  Jakub held the soul necklace up. Only a slice of blue essence remained in it. “Just for now,” he said. “I’ll bring you back soon.”

  “But Jakub-”

  Knowing he couldn’t bare Ludwig’s guilt routine now of all times, he uttered the word of his glyphline and faded him. It was the right thing to do to save what essence he had left, even though the basement was lonely without his friend there.

  Well, he wasn’t quite alone, anyway. There was the kid, who was silently watching him now, and he didn’t know what to make of it.

  It didn’t matter. He needed to fix himself up.

  He took the rags and the salve of agony from his inventory bag, as well as a vial of restoration. The rags and agony salve were items that he’d looted, but the restoration liquid was standard issue for any academy graduates going out on field work.

  Dipping the corner of the rags in the agony salve, he rubbed this over his thigh and torso, wincing at first, but then breathing more calmly as numbness took hold.