Path of the Necromancer Book 1 (A LootRPG Series)

by Deck Davis

  “Correct.”

  “Yutulia is the real owner of this body, and you stole it.”

  “Yes.”

  “Remind me again why this Killeshi system is so great?”

  “I suppose that a system of resurrection that relies on wealth is better? I have never visited the Capital but even so, I’ll guess that the beggars on the streets outside the Queen’s palace don’t get resurrected, yes? But the lords and ladies and dukes and generals, do they get a second chance at life?”

  “It’s fine helping people based on need, if you don’t need to rely on gold yourself. Without these dukes, the academy couldn’t arm its barbarians, couldn’t buy mana for its mages.”

  “It’d be wise to heal that corruption within yourself, before dissecting somebody else,” said Morrigan.

  “We’re just cogs in a wheel going round and round. I guess it doesn’t matter what I think about it.”

  “That’s right. I expected you to be a little angrier, truthfully.”

  Jakub rubbed his face, as if the gesture would somehow rub the last few hours, or days, from his memory and give him a fresh start.

  No, it didn’t work.

  “How old are you, Morrigan?”

  “I was born in 800 BB and laid to rest in 1200.”

  “You’re old enough to be my great grandmother twenty times over. That’s great.”

  “A slight exaggeration.”

  He paced around the room now, aware that the boy was watching him, and feeling his anger building up.

  It was a strange anger, one part fueled by being tricked into sleeping with a 400 year old woman, and in another part the anger turned inward on himself, because a part of him wanted it again.

  It wasn’t the ancient woman that he wanted. It was her body. Or Yutulia’s body, to be more precise.

  She’d stirred something in him, but now he felt sick for even thinking about it.

  “I need to speak to the woman. To Yutulia,” he said Jakub.

  Morrigan tossed one of her long braids back over her head. “She won’t have much to say. At least not that you’ll want to hear.”

  “I didn’t realize I was talking to a squatter in the house, not the owner. You realize that I can’t leave things like this, right? That I can’t let you stay there?”

  “Think of all the things we can do if you let me,” she said, pushing out her chest. Jakub was ashamed to notice that his own body reacted with a flood of hormones. Morrigan seemed to notice, and she carried on. “We could have so much fun, necromancer.”

  “Why are you talking like that? It doesn’t suit you.”

  Morrigan folded her arms. “Alright,” she said, her voice back to the way it had been before, losing the alluring tones. “A person might think the situation looks suspicious.”

  “You’re a 400 year ghost who confessed to a possession. Of a young woman, no less.”

  “I can’t help but feel this has something to do with last night, as well.”

  “It was nothing special,” said Jakub, hoping he sounded believable.

  “Then without emotion clouding our judgement, we can talk properly, yes? With no accusations of possession or threaten to banish me to the Greylands of whatever you necromancers do.”

  Jakub took a second to settle his thoughts. Betrayal burned in him, but not only from Morrigan. For a second, Abbie Marth simmered in his thoughts too. He guessed Morrigan had helped him clear his head of her for a while, but now she was back.

  A deep breath and the shutting of a few mental steel doors, and he was ready.

  “Like I said; the first thing I need is to talk to Yutulia.”

  “Impossible.”

  “Show me some good faith, Morrigan, and then we’ll see where we go from there.”

  “No. The second I let that woman back into this body, she’ll try and slaughter you and the boy.”

  31

  “You’re saying that Yutulia is…”

  “Dangerous. Not many Killeshi bodies make conduits for magic, but Yutulia was fertile ground. The more she used it, the better she got. I watched her work from the recess of her mind. I told her that the spells she was learning were too dark. There was nothing good about them, but she didn’t care. She hated anything good.

  The Killeshi won’t banish one of their own willingly, but nor do their Death Bringers admit their mistakes. Their mistakes in this instance were enormous. The girl comes from a dark lineage, a branch of the Killeshi tree that should have been clipped years ago, but they kept trying, hoping that in new soil fruits would grow where there were once weeds.”

  “You’re talking in riddles,” said Jakub.

  “Zelox and Chancel lived in their true bodies at the same time as I.”

  “You as in, Morrigan?”

  “Correct. They were my brother and sister, but they were rotten. They were Death Bringers, but they communed with spirits no Killeshi should have given time to. For this we go even further back, to our ancestors who dwelled between the lands of the living and the dead.”

  “The Greylands.”

  “A part of the Greylands. The dark part, where the blackest of souls cling on, refusing to die. Zelox and Chancel communed with them, but they let their guard down, and they let the spirits into their minds. It infected them. It infected their bloodstream, to the point they weren’t my brother and sister anymore, but something darker. Evil beings. Wicked, malicious constructs of flesh and spirit.”

  “Yutulia came after that?”

  “She was born twenty-six years ago, long after we passed. She was of our blood, and as such, the Death Bringers gave the spirits of Zelox and Chancel one last chance at swimming to the light. They put, Zelox and Chancel into Yutulia when she was born, then completing the group by adding me. I was supposed to bring balance, to guide them away from the dark. Three ancestral spirits into a newborn, as is the Killeshi way.”

  “It didn’t go as they planned, I take it?”

  “Zelox and Chancel were too far gone, and they infected the young girl. In small ways, at first. This showed in things she hid from the rest of the tribe; capturing small animals and torturing them in secret. Lighting fires to watch things burn. This escalated, and by the time the elders realized how far Yutulia had corrupted, she was already a teen, and her mind was lost to the darkness inside her. This reached its zenith when she murdered a family in our village and tried to consume their flesh in order to imbibe their spirits.”

  “So these…things…are inside you now?”

  Morrigan nodded. “I had never let the darkness of my siblings inside me in life, and I resisted it in death. When the elders discovered the murders Yutulia had committed, they wanted to kill her. Judgement cast by the edge of the blade; again, as is the Killeshi way.

  They wanted to end this bloodline once and for all, but that would have ended me, too, since I was inside her as an ancestral spirit. When the elders came for Yutulia, I seized control. I fought with not just the girl, but with my spiritual siblings, and I came out in control.

  I begged the elders to give me a chance to free her from their influence, but they still wanted to end it. A final, unequivocal ending; to slaughter the girl with all of us inside her, burn the body, and cast the ashes into the seas.”

  “So how did you get banished?”

  “I call it a banishment, but it was an escape. I fled, and I have lived apart from the tribe ever since. I live in one area until I judge it unsafe, and then I leave. Soon, I will have to leave this hut, too. They stopped proactively hunting me years ago, since I eluded them too much. If they see me, they will still remember their duty. Whatever happens to me, I’ll die before I let Yutulia out again. If it means destroying this body, I would do that before letting her loose.”

  Jakub struggled with his thoughts. One idea was brighter than the rest; that he’d been right. There was something inherently wrong with the Killeshis’ practice. If they hadn’t put the blackened spirits inside Yutulia when she was a child, she would have
grown up normal, free from their influence.

  It was sick, but the worst thing was that when he looked at Morrigan now, his feelings collided inside him.

  Their night in his tent had brought him closer to her than he had been to anyone, at least physically, and he felt it now when he looked at her eyes. The knowledge that he still thought like that made his stomach tighten.

  Yutulia might have been dangerous, but it wasn’t her fault. Maybe there was a way to give her another chance. In fact, he knew of a way.

  It would mean banishing Morrigan as well as her dark siblings.

  It was a spell way beyond his talents as a level 2 novice necromancer. If he planned how he gained his experience and carefully used specific talents to level his skills, he could learn the spell he needed to free her; the Necromancer’s Cleanse.

  Whether Morrigan would agree to it or not was another matter, and there was something more important at stake - a life on the line that meant more to him than this woman.

  “I need to make the goodlight potion,” he said. “Time’s running out for it. The window is closing.”

  “You aren’t reacting the way I thought you would,” said Morrigan. “Most people would have lost their minds. Fled away from here.”

  “I’m not most people. I’m a necromancer, and I have a job to do. I need to bring Kortho back. We’ll deal with this - whatever this is - later.”

  32

  He crossed the hut and stood by a wooden counter against the wall. He set his inventory bag on top of it.

  Morrigan joined him. She seemed unsure of herself now; Jakub thought that perhaps she was nervous about his reaction to what he’d told her. The fact was, he was edgy around her, too. Right now, he needed her, and he needed her mind clear. They could deal with the other stuff later, but she had to be focused.

  “I have only two things on my mind,” he said, to reassure her. “Bringing Kortho back, and finishing my assignment. What happens after that, I don’t know, but I suspect Kortho will tell me it isn’t our problem. We’re not supposed to interfere in anything but our assignment.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Help me. I’ll make the goodlight and keep the resurrection window open, and then I’ll need you to guide me through the Killeshi lands without getting my head put on a stick, until I find the inquisitor. If he has transport, I can get Kortho back to the academy, or at least get a message to them so they can send a master necromancer to meet us before the resurrection window closes. Help me with that, and we’ll go our separate ways at the end of it.”

  Then, Morrigan did something that surprised him; she reached out and grabbed his hand.

  He was pleased at the contact at first, but when he looked at her now he saw not a beautiful woman but a spirit possessing her host. He drew his hand back. Morrigan said nothing.

  He forced himself to push his revulsion back and think practically.

  “The Killeshi know for sure that a necromancer from the academy is in their lands now, and they know that I’m with you. They’ll come looking, won’t they?”

  She nodded. “We can’t stay here too long.”

  “Do you have somewhere else we can go?”

  “I have been living under their watch for years. I have many places.”

  “Then we’ll make the goodlight, use it, and then go. It isn’t just the Killeshi I’m worried about, though. There’s another necromancer out there, and I think he’s one who was banished from the academy for dark spells. Yep, we banish people too. Funny how alike we are, right? He wants the same thing that Kortho and I came for – the body of Harry Helmund.”

  “What is so special about this corpse?”

  “He was a soldier in the Queen’s army, and privy to sensitive information on our main line of defence, the one that stopped the Baelin crossing the sea and overwhelming us.”

  “The Arcane Boundaries,” said Morrigan.

  “You know about those?”

  “We aren’t mindless savages. Traders pass through our lands, and they often speak freely, and bitterly, about your Queen.”

  “We need to find out what Helmund knew about the how the boundaries work, and how much of it he sold to the Baelin. To do that, we have to recover his body and resurrect him, but the necromancer wants him too. Not only that, but he knows that I am here.”

  “So, we have my own Killeshi and one of your necromancers as enemies.”

  “As well as a bunch of people who the necromancer was staying with. They have some kind of hamlet cut into a hill.”

  “I know if it, but I didn’t know he was there.”

  “Well he is, and he knows an academy necromancer is here because he saw my binded animal.”

  “Then we have to work fast. Start your potion, and I will pack what I need so we can leave.”

  33

  Jacob stood at the wooden counter and closed his eyes. He walked through his mind palace until he reached the part of it where he stored the recipe list for the potions a necromancer might need.

  In his head, this room was represented by his old classroom, where Madam Lolo had taught them certain potions.

  The classroom was old and dusty, and had half a dozen wooden benches in the centre. In class time these would have been filled with his fellow students, but the classroom was empty in his mind.

  Instead, each bench represented one of the six essential potions a necromancer might need, and the ingredients were laid on them. He took a mental walk through the room until he reached the bench that glowed bright white, which represented goodlight.

  “Okay,” he said, his eyes open, back in the hut with the wooden counter in front of him, and Morrigan busy gathering belongings behind him.

  He worked quickly and carefully, taking out all the ingredients they’d found around the hut, as well as the orrograss they’d taken from the Killeshi burial grounds.

  “Losing your bag was the worst thing that could have happened,” he said.

  Morrigan looked over at him. “You picked some yourself, did you not?”

  “It’d be nice if we had enough for more than one batch. That’s pressure that I don’t need now, not with your whole damn family lurking around and waiting to possess someone.”

  Morrigan rolled her eyes, but Jakub was serious. He had enough for one potion.

  The realization added more pressure to a situation where he needed calm.

  “This is such a mess…”

  He cleared his mind by focusing on the patterns on the wooden counter and the way the wood had been cut so that it swirled over the surface. He counted every nick – twenty-eight – and every scratch – thirty six. Then he was calm enough to put all his concentration into brewing the potion.

  As he spread the goodlight ingredients in front of him, he heard a thud, followed by a rasping sound.

  He turned as Morrigan dropped a wooden box to the ground. Glass shattered inside the box, and he looked at Morrigan for any sign of a wound.

  “Are you okay?”

  She wasn’t hurt. Seeing this, his gaze darted next to the boy, who was standing by the hut wall.

  Only, he wasn’t just standing there; not anymore. A bolt had pierced through the hut wall and had punctured all the way through his chest.

  Morrigan glanced at him for a second before running outside. Cage doors clanged open, and Morrigan shouted something. She came running back in as Jakob joined the boy.

  “Damn, are your walls made from paper?” said Jakub.

  “I’ve sent Reggie and his brothers out to see who’s out there and how many there are.”

  The boy opened his mouth and stuck out the stub of his severed tongue. A low rasp came from deep inside his throat. So far as Jakub knew, the undead only experienced a tiny amount of pain. Even so, it couldn’t have been nice.

  “The bolt’s wedged into the wall,” said Morrigan. “If we pull him away from it, can you heal him like you did with me in the burial grounds?”

  “He’s undead. The bolt might
hurt, but my spell won’t do much for that. He doesn’t need healing.”

  The boy’s rasps were so guttural, such a sound of horror, that he wished the boy could speak instead. At least words, even pleading ones, would sound better than the noises coming from his throat.

  Morrigan stared at the boy, and she scratched her neck so hard she broke the skin. Jakub needed to give her something to do to take her mind off the boy, since his plight was making her anxious.

  “Gather as many of your things as you can,” he said. “I doubt that the bolt coming through your wall was a hunter missing his shot by accident. Your friends have come for you.”

  “The Killeshi don’t use these bolts.”

  “Either way, we can’t stay. Gather weapons, fire oil if you have any, food, and water skins.”

  “I know how to survive in these lands, necromancer. I’ve been doing it a lot longer than you.”

  Jakub put his hands on the boy’s shoulders. “Does this hurt?” he asked.

  The boy shook his head.

  “Then would it be cruel of me to leave you like this while I prepare? It will take both Morrigan and me to get you free, but we need to get everything ready first.”

  The boy nodded.

  “Is that a yes it would be cruel, or a nod that I can leave you for a moment?”

  Another nod.

  “I can leave you?”

  The boy nodded.

  “You’re a brave kid,” said Jakub. Filled with adrenaline now, he crossed the room until he was by the wooden counter. “Morrigan, how long until your hawks get back?”

  “They should be back by now.”

  “We need to know what we’re dealing with and how close they are. A bolt like that could mean anything; there are weapons that could have fired it from half a mile away with a clear line of sight.”

  “They’ll be back before you know it,” said Morrigan.

  “That might be too long. Ludwig will have to help.”

  Jakub took out his soul necklace, but it was empty. “Damn it. No essence.”

  That was a blow; Ludwig could have scouted for them and gotten back before the hawks. He didn’t want to say it to Morrigan, but he suspected her birds might have been shot out of the sky.