by Deck Davis
- Amount of essence drained increased
Skill increased: Summon Binded increased to [2] [Death Bind Glyphline]
- Binded creature movement boundary increased
- Half of 1 extra summon slot gained
Skill Learned: Health Harvest [1] [Soul Harvest Glyphline]
[The necromancer can convert soul essence gained through Essence Grab into a healing mist that tends the wounds of himself and allies.]
If he’d known any jigs then Jakub would have danced them as he watched his Soul Harvest glyphline tattoo change. Where it was once almost-empty with a sliver of color in it, it filled in even more now with his second Soul Harvest skill.
Just like when he’d graduated and learned his basic necromancy skills, the addition of a new one wrought itself deep inside him, changing him from the inside. It was a comforting feeling; like some soft brushing the essence of his body.
He’d heard of health harvest, since it was one that most novice necromancers got at level 2. Jakub had expected to get it, too.
Of course, it was impossible to predict what new skills you would learn with certainty. Skills were improved and learned depending on how you had levelled up; if Jacob had cast a Resurrection glyphline spell over and over again, it was more likely he would have learned a new spell on that glyphline.
As it was, Health Harvest didn’t improve him offensively, but a necromancer was not supposed to be a battler. He was just happy that he had a way to heal himself when he was without potions, because you never knew what would happen.
His new skill aside, it was great to improve his Essence Grab and Summon Binded spells. With his Essence skill levelled up, he would now gain more essence from the dead.
More exciting, though, was levelling his Summon Binded spell.
It was fantastic that Ludwig would be able to travel further away from Jakub when summoned, since it meant more opportunities to use him as a scout whilst hiding far away from his enemies.
Even better - much, much better - was getting half of a new summon slot. When he received the other half, he’d be able to add a new creature from the Greylands to his glyphline.
He already had an idea what he’d try and get, but that was in the future. He needed to stay in the present, as Kortho would no doubt say.
When the hut door opened and Morrigan rejoined him, the hawk was tottering around its cage, alive and well again.
“It’s disorientated,” said Jakub. “It spent a while in the Greylands, and coming back to reality is jarring.”
“Reggie!” said Morrigan. She held out her arm for the bird to pad across its cage and onto it. Morrigan nuzzled her nose in its breast feathers. “Thank you,” she said.
“Now you can show me where to find the ingredients, right? I want to have goodlight ready by tonight. The longer we leave it, the more chance the resurrection window closes.”
Reggie the hawk climbed onto Morrigan’s shoulder. She folded her arms and stared at Jakub and her worry and sentimentality was gone now, replaced by her hardened warrior look and her green eyes.
“This will be dangerous,” she said. “More so for you than me.”
“Kortho would risk his life for me without question.”
“Then we better get ready.”
“Where do we need to go?”
“To the Killeshi burial grounds.”
“I’ll go get the boy and make sure he’s ready,” said Jakub.
“No,” said Morrigan. “He can stay here. The door bolts from inside, and Reggie and his brothers will perch on the roof. Nothing will get by them without a beak tearing at it, and they can fly to us if there is a problem. The Killeshi burial grounds are no place for a boy. They are no place for you either, necromancer, but we don’t have a choice.”
25 - Rud
“Come on girl,” he whispered as he and Chaser sneaked away from the row of sleeping bags. He smiled at his friend, glad that she was back. He’d almost lost her, and now every second she was around was precious. To think that he’d taken her for granted, that he’d thought she’d last forever.
Necromancers, death, the things they did…he’d always been wary of them. Scared, even. Now, though, he saw that necromancer Ryden wasn’t just here to help his mother and the others with their rituals; he could do other things, too. Good things.
With good came the bad, and now Rud was in the necromancer’s debt. Not for long.
He left the others dozing in their sleeping bags and tents, choosing his steps carefully so he didn’t wake them. It was the dead of night and the only ones not sleeping where the guards patrolling the crest of the hamlet walls.
Their attention was focused outside of the camp, not within it, and Rud knew how to sneak around without alerting them. He was used to it, after all.
His stomach tensed up as he neared their meeting spot on the far side of the hamlet, where the guards stockpiled their weapons. They’d chosen this place for their illicit rendezvous because it was dark and nobody ever came here at night.
As he got closer, he saw her.
Florence.
Warmth spread through him at the sight of her, at her slender figure, and her long, curling, auburn hair that he loved to run his fingers through.
Chaser sped off ahead of him and reached Florence first, and she put her paws on Florence’s knees and begged for attention. Florence bent down and stroked her, and then she looked up at Rud, and when their eyes locked a fire sparked inside him.
He reached her and pulled her into a kiss before saying anything. This was their 32nd kiss; he’d counted every single one.
Soon, they could do it without having to sneak.
When they parted from their kiss, he saw fear in her eyes.
“Father says my initiation is in three days’ time,” she said.
A weight sunk in his stomach. He thought they had more time. His own initiation was set for five days, and he thought that was how long they’d have to prepare their getaway.
“I was supposed to be next. Then John, and then Kevan…”
“Father wants me to take it from the batch they brought in two days ago. He doesn’t want me to wait.”
Rud thought about the corpses under the hill, and the weight in his stomach grew heavier.
He ignored it. He needed to be strong for her.
“We have to leave tomorrow,” said Florence.
Well, no need to be strong after all, he thought. She was stronger than he’d ever be.
“That’s not enough time,” he said. “We need food and weapons, but we need to be careful. Take too much at once, and they’ll find out its missing.”
“I’m not becoming like them.”
“Me neither,” said Rud, “but we’re of age now. Maybe we should tell them about us. Tell then we aren’t staying.”
“My father will kill you, and then your mother will kill him. You know what they have planned for me.”
Rud thought about Ollivander, the uppity teen who’d joined their hamlet months ago. His parents had been landowners in the Red Eye Queendom, but they’d been outcast. Although they’d had to leave their lands behind, they’d brought so many provisions to the hamlet that it had given them a high status straight away.
“What does your father think he’ll get from this? Ollivander’s family aren’t here because they want to be; they’re here because they’re being hunted. They wouldn’t have looked at us twice otherwise.”
“Father hopes that if we make a bond through marriage now, then when the Baelin come and Ollivander’s family side with them against Queen Patience, they’ll get their land back. Some of that land would belong to me, as Ollivander’s wife.”
Anger flushed his cheeks. This was a different kind of warmth than when he’d seen Florence; it was a bitter kind, the kind that made him want to drink whiskey and start fights, which he’d been doing more and more as the deadline to his own initiation grew closer.
“Then we can’t tell them. We’ll have to stick to the plan,
but bring it forward. You, me, and Chaser. We’ll hoard as much stuff as we can, and then we’ll get the hell out of here.”
“What about the Killeshi?”
“I’ll have my sword.”
“Rud, my love, I’m not saying that you can’t fight, but…”
“But you’re thinking it. I’ve been practicing, and Gregor took me out on a few scouting runs, too. I know how to move without them seeing. We need to get to the outskirts of the Killeshi lands and then head south to the ports. We’ll get on a ship, somehow, and then we’ll be okay.”
“Only a hundred miles of wild lands filled with Killeshi stand in our way. Well, it’s lucky I’ve been practicing too,” she said.
“With your bow?”
“I’m a better shot than most the guards. If they weren’t such pigs about it, I’d have been put on guard duty by now. You’re right, Rud. We’ll take our chances.”
Rud pulled her close to him again, pressing the swell of her breasts against his chest, letting her soft hair brush against his face.
He kissed her again, and the danger retreated for a second.
It was only a brief rest from it; the second they parted, the threat of it all flooded back. The truth was, he was terrified of the Killeshi, but it was better to face them than to stay here.
He wouldn’t let him or Florence take their initiations. Better to be dead than to become like the others.
26
The Killeshi burial grounds were a maze of trees and pillars. The trees were ancient beyond reckoning, with branches twisting this way and that, and holes in the middle of their trunks.
The stone pillars had patterns and figures carved into them, and Jakub appreciated good-quality stone carvings. It was something he’d learned to love while studying in the academy, since he’d toured so many graveyards that seeing a well-decorated one was a pleasure.
The carvings were the only thing that sparked any kind of pleasant feeling, though, because the rest of the Killeshi grounds weaved fear in his body, tightening around him and putting him on edge.
Most people would have said all burial grounds and graveyards were haunting, but it wasn’t true; the places the dead were laid to rest were often given more care than others. People often took pains to make sure graveyards looked green and natural and bright, as though seeing beauty in the gardens of the dead would lessen the grief of those who visited them.
Not so here, though. Stone carvings aside, the Killeshi hadn’t made any attempt to decorate the resting place of their fallen. He guessed it made sense; the dead Killeshi never stayed that way for long. They always came back, one way or another.
He and Morrigan kneeled in the grass two hundred meters from the boundaries, hidden by a slope where the ground rose.
“We burn the dead and put their ashes in the trees,” said Morrigan. “See the holes in the trunks?”
“Beats digging a grave.”
“I would have thought a practitioner of your arts would be more respectful of the dead.”
“Spend enough time talking about death, it loses its impact.”
“You should be more respectful when we cross the burial boundaries,” said Morrigan. “It is a dangerous place for you.”
Jakub patted his blackened blade in his sheath. “They give us enough training in the academy that I can handle myself. You’d be surprised.”
“You’re right; I would be. Metal won’t work against the dangerous things here, whether it is blackened or not.”
“What do I need to know about this place?”
“The tree trunks contain souls waiting for resurrection in the Killeshi way. When a Killeshi dies they are brought here. When a new Killeshi is born, a Death Bringer selects a scattering of souls from the burial grounds, ready for them to be put into the new child. The Killeshi are literally a mixture of their ancestors.”
“You keep saying ‘they’ and ‘Killeshi’. You are Killeshi, yes?”
“I was, but I was banished, and I do not want to-”
“You don’t want to talk about it. You said that before. I don’t really need to know, either. This whole thing, putting the ghosts of the dead into children…it makes me sick.”
She arched an eyebrow. “You are squeamish about this?”
“It’s the fact the kid doesn’t get a say. Folks should wait before forcing their ideas on their children. Trust me, it doesn’t always work out.”
“Elders always believe they know best. Usually that is for a reason.”
“So these kids, they have to have their great, great, great grandfather swirling around their head, watching them as they grow up, stalking their thoughts while they take a shit?”
“It doesn’t work the way you….you know what, necromancer? Forget it. A seeker of knowledge should be removed from the emotions it brings. They shouldn’t develop such infantile ideas about something they don’t understand.”
“It’s unnatural.”
“Summoning the deceased back from the dead is natural, is it?” she said.
He held his hands up. “You have me there. I know you don’t want to talk about it, but answer one thing. If you’re Killeshi, that means they put dead ancestors into you as well, right?”
She nodded.
“Then come on…who’s inside you, Morrigan?”
Her cheeks burned. “Pathetic. You academy folk are jokers through and through.”
“Seriously. Can you tell me?”
“If you had a vicious animal in your house and you finally got it to be quiet, would you wake it up?”
“I guess I wouldn’t have let the animal into my house in the first place.”
“Some of us, as you have said, did not have a choice. To say their names would be to wake them.”
Ideas fell into place in Jakob’s mind. “The potion you drink…it keeps the spirits quiet, doesn’t it?”
“The medicine tastes worse than the cure, but the effects are worth it. I always keep some with me.”
It was interesting to him. Death in all guises spoke to his inner necromancer, and although it made him uneasy that Killeshi children had their ancestors forced into their being, he wished he could question Morrigan about it more.
For now there was something more important to do, and Jakub brought himself back to why they were here.
“So why is it so dangerous for me in the burial grounds?” he said.
“The grounds are tended to by Death Bringers. They deposit the ashes of the dead in the trees, and they select the spirits which are to be given new life. Death Bringers are rare among the Killeshi; barely one of every generation of new children could become one.”
“What’s so special about them?”
“In the burial grounds, the dead who were powerful enough in life can manipulate the energy around them and take a form, of sorts. Through this, they will try to take a host body by force. Only a Death Bringer can withstand their assaults. If anyone other than a Death Bringer was stupid enough to visit the grounds, of course.”
“Possession?”
“Of sorts, yes.”
“Then we’re both in trouble. Unless…you’re not a Death Bringer, are you?”
“No, but I have this,” she said.
She unslung a shield from her back and pulled a dagger from a sheath on her belt. There was nothing special about them; the shield was made from wood and was plain, and the dagger looked only good for gutting and skinning kills, rather than fighting.
“I don’t get it,” he said.
“These were bathed in dawnlight for three years,” she said. “It is a relative of goodlight; not effective in preserving a person’s soul, but it wards against the aggressive dead.”
“Any dawnlight going spare?”
She shook her head. “This is why it is dangerous for you. If you strayed onto the ground alone, they would be sure to possess you, necromancer or not. As it is, I can fight the dead and keep them from you. I will need you to deal with the Death Bringers, should we encounter them
.”
“I might have overstated my combat ability,” said Jakub. “Our training is good, but not that good. Death Bringers sound quite…tough.”
“They are flesh and blood, unlike the souls they tend. They can bleed, they can die.”
“You’re okay with me killing your countrymen, if it comes to that?”
“It has been a while since I classed them as that.”
“Then let’s go. Lead me to the orragrass. We found everything else for a goodlight potion near your shack, so as long as I can get some orragrass, we’re good.”
Morrigan nodded. “Stay close, necromancer, and ignore the whispers of the dead.”
27
It was more like the shouts of the dead to him, than whispers. Jakub’s brief visit to the Greylands when he binded with Ludwig made him more attuned to the spirits of the deceased, and so where normal folk would have barely noticed the spirits whispering - and would have attributed the sound to the wind in any case - Jakub heard their words clearly.
Only, their calls weren’t for him.
“Devil, black-hearted bitch, scum, demon whore,” said one voice.
“They should have purged you. Never let you out. Burn your skin until it shriveled, cast your soul into the ether!” said another.
Morrigan glanced left to right as she guided them through the maze of crooked trees and pillars. Her hand was tense around her dagger, and Jakub made sure to keep his movements deliberate and within her eyeshot, because she looked ready to slash at anything.
The further into the burial grounds they went the more voices joined the chorus, until each of them added a new layer to a tapestry of threats and curses, each blacker and nastier than the last.
“They’re talking to me,” said Morrigan.
“I gathered that.”
“Or not to me, as such, but...”
“One the ancestors inside you, who they’ve obviously taken offence to. How long until the spirits can take form?”
“Don’t worry; the spirits you’re hearing now aren’t strong enough to materialize. The strongest of the dead are in the centre of the grounds.”
