The Necromancer's Rogue

by Icy Sedgwick

The arms slowed their movement, but continued to wave like fronds under water. A skull coalesced and pushed out of the wall, the enchantment of the building’s fabric stretched across it like a skin.

  “What do you ask of us?” The skull’s lower jaw hinged back and forth, its teeth clattering in an approximation of speech.

  “We need to know how to get down to the dungeons.”

  “Down? Oh, no one goes down there. They’re taken down there.”

  “That won’t work for me, I’m afraid. I need to know how to get into them.” Eufame folded her arms.

  “No, no, only taken.”

  Another skull further along the wall pushed itself forward, the grey enchantment straining to cover its rounded form.

  “Of course you can get into them, you idiot,” it shouted at the first skull.

  “Don’t tell them that! She will get so angry if she finds out, and then we’ll never be free!” replied the first skull.

  “We’ll never be free anyway. Listen, pay no attention to him, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Take the corridor nearest your apprentice, and follow it until the sixth gate on the right. Walk through. It looks solid but it’s an illusion. It’s actually the top of a staircase,” said the second skull. The first skull shouted, trying to drown out the words of the second, but everyone ignored it.

  “Are all of the gates illusions?” asked Jyx.

  “No. Most of them are cell doors, but the occasional one hides more. That’s the one you want. Don’t stop on the first landing, none of those corridors lead you anywhere you might want to go. Go down again to the second landing, and follow your nose.”

  The second skull pulled back into the wall, the grey skin rippling before it settled back into place. The first skull shouted in annoyance but also retreated into the wall, followed by the arms and legs.

  Eufame turned to Jyx and Vyolet. “See? It’s amazing where you can find useful information.”

  “What were those things?” asked Vyolet.

  “This entire building is made of the souls of the damned. One of my sister’s more repellent ideas,” replied Eufame.

  Jyx gawked at her carefree tone. Did her advanced age make her so flippant, or would he too become so immune to suffering that it became matter-of-fact?

  As instructed by the skull, Eufame went down the corridor nearest to Jyx. She counted the gates, stopping at the specified door, and walked straight through it, swallowed up by the curtain of black.

  “Eufame!” cried Jyx.

  “Should we follow her?” asked Vyolet.

  “I don’t think we have any choice,” replied Jyx. “We can’t get out without her.”

  They set off after Eufame, pausing outside the same door. Jyx stared at it, unable to believe it was any different from the gates to either side. These were the cells housing dangerous inmates – how could they trust the skull, and how did they know Eufame was safely on the other side? She hadn’t called out to them to say it was safe to proceed.

  “Is this the right one?” asked Vyolet.

  “Sixth on the right, the skull said. So it should be. I just don’t like this at all.”

  “Neither do I, but you said it yourself, we have no choice. Unless you have some magick that you can use to check it’s the right one. Maybe Shadow magick.” Vyolet wrinkled her nose and spat the last two words.

  “Okay, I get it. You have a problem with me using Shadow magick. I don’t do it for fun, you know. The first time…I just wanted to see if it worked.”

  “You’ve used it more than once?” Vyolet raised one eyebrow. Her skin darkened a shade.

  “Yeah. I had to distract the council guards so Validus and I could get out of the House of the Long Dead. It was the only thing I could think of.”

  “Shadows have minds of their own, you know. They’re not just there for your amusement. Neither are Shadowkin,” said Vyolet. Her tone wobbled, but her skin returned to its normal colour. Her anger had passed – for now.

  “Look, I promise I’ll only ever use Shadow magick in future if I have absolutely no other choice, or Eufame tells me to, okay?”

  Vyolet let out a long breath. “That seems fair.”

  The Eufame shard in Jyx’s mind wriggled. It caught his awareness with a sharp stab.

  “I think Eufame’s waiting for us,” he said.

  Jyx gritted his teeth and reached out a trembling hand, pressing on the gate with his fingertips. His fingers disappeared clean through the metal and into the black curtain beyond. He moved forward until his whole hand was through the curtain, its strange not-wetness soaking his wrist.

  “This feels so weird,” he said.

  Before he could move further forward, another hand, this one ice cold and smooth, grasped his own. Jyx yelped and the other hand yanked on his arm. He stumbled through the curtain, holding his breath as he passed, and came out in a stairwell, lit by flickering purple torches. He looked into the smiling face of Eufame Delsenza. The dancing light cast a mauve glow across the white streaks in her black mane and she let go of his hand to ruffle his hair.

  “You need to have more faith, Jyx,” she said.

  Jyx turned around to see the cell door behind him. The curtain was transparent on this side, and Vyolet remained in the corridor, arms wrapped around herself, and glancing from side to side. Eufame stuck her hand back through the curtain. Vyolet reached out to take it and the necromancer general hauled the Shadowkin through the gate.

  “Right. We should be a little safer down here in the sense that no one will expect us to go down – they’ll expect us to try to make for the main atrium,” said Eufame. “But that doesn’t mean there won’t be other dangers.”

  Behind Jyx, the rough stone steps disappeared into the gloom, the flickering torchlight casting a weak purple glow down the staircase. Vyolet smiled and stepped sideways into the shadow behind Eufame.

  “Vyolet!” cried Jyx.

  “I’m still here, Jyx. It’s just I haven’t felt darkness since we came in. I don’t normally spend so long away from it,” replied Vyolet, a disembodied voice echoing in the stairwell.

  “Vyolet, I’m going to need a very long chat with you about shadows when we get out of here, but for now we have to get moving. We can’t guarantee someone won’t come up these stairs.”

  Eufame hustled them both down the stairs. Warmer air caressed Jyx’s face as they descended, and he held his hand against a torch as he walked past. The flames gave off no heat, only light, and Jyx could only assume the warmth came from somewhere below. The words of the skull came to mind – what did it mean, telling them to follow their noses?

  Jyx started counting steps as they descended deeper into the bowels of the House, but gave up after thirty. The Academy featured enchanted spiral staircases in the Forbidden Tower to catch out unwary or overly curious students, and the staircases kept adding steps to keep the students climbing until exhaustion forced them back down. Jyx thought of those staircases now, wondering exactly how many steps it would take to get to the first landing.

  “Eufame, how far down do these stairs go?” asked Jyx.

  “I’m beginning to suspect they go down as far as Naiad wants them to go,” replied Eufame. Irritation bloomed in her tone, along with a note Jyx had never heard before – anxiety.

  “Why did they bring you to the House of Correction?”

  “Because my sister is one of only two people in the whole of the Twin Cities capable of holding me, and the only one who would actually want to.”

  Eufame stopped on the stairs, and Jyx almost slammed into her back. Vyolet caught him before he fell. She remained in the shadow, but the sight of her gun smoke hand wrapped around his wrist calmed his nerves.

  “I may have made a mistake.” A lead weight coated the bottom of Eufame’s words.

  “How?” asked Jyx.

  “Validus should never have gotten either of you involved. He trusted me to be able to get us all out once you found me, but I don’t know if I can.”

>   Eufame sat on the step and gazed down the staircase into the gloom below.

  “What do you mean? You’re Eufame Delsenza, feared by pretty much anyone human in the Twin Cities. You can do anything.” Jyx reached out to touch her but pulled back his hand at the last moment.

  “Your confidence in me is reassuring, Jyx, but wholly misplaced, given our current predicament.”

  “Predicament…predict…do you think your sister has predicted what you’ll do next?” asked Vyolet. She stepped from the shadow beside Jyx, her purple eyes gleaming.

  “I don’t doubt it,” replied Eufame. “Why?”

  “Because all we need to do is something she hasn’t predicted.”

  Vyolet shoved her hand into Jyx’s pocket and pulled out the Shadow Square. She hurled it down the stairs. Jyx cried out, but a comforting sound returned – breaking glass. Eufame looked up at Vyolet, a smile in her wintery eyes.

  “Clever girl!”

  Shadows raced up the stairs to engulf them, extinguishing each of the braziers in turn. Jyx pressed himself against the wall, staring wildly into the complete darkness surrounding him. He opened and closed his eyes to reassure himself that they were indeed open. Vyolet’s hand curled around his arm and she took his hand.

  One minute Jyx’s feet were planted on the stone step, the next he was weightless, flying downwards. Vyolet still held his hand, but Jyx swore she was beside him and all around him at the same time. Eufame whooped and hollered with childlike delight as the three of them made their way through the inky air. He wanted to shout but terror stole his words. He clamped shut his eyes and mouth.

  Time passed quickly in the shadows, and two blinks of an eye later, solid ground met Jyx’s feet, and his knees buckled under the sudden impact. He stood poised to run, arms held out either side of him for balance, and warm air ruffled his hair. Jyx opened one eye, expecting to see nothing but darkness. Instead, he peered into a long, curving corridor lit by fallen stars.

  “Where are we?” he asked. He looked to his right and saw Eufame sweep Vyolet into a bear hug. He bristled. She’d never shown any appreciation for his efforts before. Then again, his efforts usually led to destruction.

  “We’re in the lower levels of the House, right at the edge of my sister’s awareness. Vyolet here is an incredibly clever young Shadowkin,” said Eufame, a genuine smile bringing warmth to her usually cold, severe features.

  “What did you do?” asked Jyx.

  “I figured that if we couldn’t go to the landing, then the only way to break the spell was to bring the landing to us. I don’t have a lot of magick, but I can travel in shadow. That square absorbed a lot of light, so it stood to reason that it would unleash a lot of darkness.”

  Jyx nodded as though he understood, but his grasp on Shadowkin magick was tenuous at best. Until today, he hadn’t even thought they were real. All he knew was Vyolet had applied lateral thinking and sidestepped the problem with a truly simple solution. He’d never have thought of that. Jealousy made his ears burn, and he turned away so they wouldn’t see his face turn red.

  “Come along. We’ve been lucky that our little trip down the stairs meant we’ve missed the dungeons entirely. We’re at the edge of her awareness, but we need to go further before we’ll really be able to get out of here.” Eufame walked away, and Vyolet followed.

  “Where are we going?” asked Jyx.

  “Can’t you smell them?” Eufame turned to look at him.

  “No, smell what?”

  “The sewers.”

  Jyx gulped. Now he knew why the skull told them to follow their noses. Eufame was going to lead them to freedom through the sewers of the Twin Cities’ most abominable building.

  He took a deep breath and followed.

  14

  Chapter 14

  The swaying and rattling of the cab stopped, and Monte pitched forward. The sudden movement shook him awake, and he looked around in confusion.

  Tall tenements rose on either side of the cab. Broken crates blocked further progress, and a pack of urchins played around them. The air was alive with the shouts of housewives and traders from the tiny market further along the street. The scent of rotting produce mingled with the smell of humans living in proximity to each other. Monte knew that smell – it was the same one that lingered in the close where he lived, somewhere to the east. He didn’t recognise this street, so far away from his little cemetery.

  “Where are we?” asked Monte.

  “The nearest we can get to Lockevar’s Gate. All of the streets appear to be blocked, so we shall get no further than this,” replied Mr Gondavere. He clambered out of the cab.

  Monte climbed down on shaking legs and he stamped his feet to return a semblance of feeling to them. He yawned and stretched, unable to believe he’d managed to sleep through his first coach ride. Gravediggers certainly didn’t earn enough to hire them.

  Mr Gondavere paid the cabman, and Monte watched him back his horse along the alley until he had enough room to turn around the cab.

  “I believe that someone was on our tail, but the cab ride would appear to have given them the slip,” said Mr Gondavere.

  “Who is it that you think is following us?”

  “I was originally hired for a particular job. I believe my erstwhile employer is attempting to keep tabs on my progress. Little does he know that I have deviated from that original job somewhat.”

  Mr Gondavere picked his way over the crates. Monte followed, scrambling to keep his footing on the splintered wood. Urchins swarmed towards Mr Gondavere, but he shooed them away. Once the squawking children had departed, he and Monte walked in silence, navigating the loud and busy closes in the direction of the Gate.

  Their destination was a mammoth door between the two Cities. No one knew what material made up the doors themselves, but they were impervious to any force, both physical and magickal. Rumour had it that night iron was involved in their construction somehow, but no one was old enough to remember them being erected. Arcane symbols decorated the pillars, while sparks of magick flickered in the air on either side of the Gate. Low huts of ancient wood sat by the archway on both sides of the Gate, manned by armoured men wielding halberds.

  A small crowd gathered by the hut beside the Gate, begging the sentries for entry to the City Above. The two sentries, both heavy-set men in their early forties, would not be moved, and held back the crowd. In order to prevent mass immigration into the City Above, the inhabitants of the Underground City could not go Above without a pass, and they couldn’t obtain a pass without a valid reason for being Above. In the interests of fairness, the council of the City Above also limited movement into the Underground City, in the attempts of stemming the tide of pleasure-seekers and criminals wishing to profit from the misery of the underground slums. A limited number of petitioners were allowed Above every day, and hundreds of City-dwellers waited at the Gate each morning in the hope that they would be fortunate enough to pass through. Monte didn’t know what they thought awaited them Above, unless they thought they could make a better life for themselves. He’d never joined the crowd – Myrtle would never let him because he’d “just fail at that as well”. He grimaced to think about his wife.

  Mr Gondavere walked past the crowd, and up to one of the sentries. Monte followed him and cried out when he got closer to the man.

  “Willum!”

  “Monte!” The man broke into a wide grin full of misshapen, blackened teeth and clapped Monte on the back with one beefy hand. Monte grasped his free hand and shook it furiously.

  “Do you two know each other?” asked Mr Gondavere. He pursed his lips.

  “Yeah, I went to school with Willum’s little brother. How’s he getting on?” asked Monte.

  “Got hisself a new job, din’t he? ’E now works down in the Artist’s Quarter, runnin’ errands and whatnot,” replied Willum.

  “It’s a small world, indeed,” replied Mr Gondavere.

  “So, what you doin’ now, Monte?” asked Willum.


  “This is my employer, Mr Gondavere. He’s a social historian,” replied Monte.

  “My, that is interestin’, yes indeed!” Willum smiled again. Somehow his lopsided, ugly grin troubled Monte less than Mr Gondavere’s dagger-filled smile. Mr Gondavere gave a short, sharp bow.

  “Yer’ll be wantin’ to go Above, then?” Willum returned Mr Gondavere’s bow and gestured to the Gate with his thumb.

  “That was our hope, yes,” replied Mr Gondavere.

  “Don’t suppose yer have papers? Passes? Official sigils?

  Monte shook his head but Willum simply shrugged.

  “Normally I’d need to see ’em but seein’ as how I know yer, I’ll let yer through. Jus’ don’t let on, yeah?”

  Mr Gondavere smiled and doffed his hat. Willum beamed, clearly unaccustomed to social niceties from well-dressed men. Monte shook Willum’s hand, and promised to catch up with him again as soon as he could. Willum lifted a small portion of the vast barrier and allowed Mr Gondavere and Monte through, slamming it closed again before the crowd could surge forward.

  “That was a stroke of luck, although I could have produced the necessary administrative items,” said Mr Gondavere.

  “I didn’t know that,” replied Monte.

  “You never asked, and it was not your place to know. Kindly do not answer for me again, do you understand?”

  Monte nodded in reply, too excited at the prospect of finally seeing the City Above to feel chastened by Mr Gondavere’s rebuke.

  It was night time in the City Above, and a vast canvas of deepest blue arced above Monte. He stopped in the centre of the thoroughfare, gazing up at the winking pricks of silver. He’d never seen stars before, except in his dreams, but they were even more beautiful than anything his imagination could have produced. He wondered what Myrtle would make of such a sight, but even that would probably fail to impress her. “I thought the stars would be brighter,” she’d say.

  “We must make for the district of the House of the Notorious Dead,” said Mr Gondavere.

  Monte’s attention snapped back to the job at hand, and he followed his employer along the thoroughfare. Empty stalls lined the route, and Monte wondered what goods were sold in the small market. Was it food? Surely that would be cruel, selling the finest street food so near the Gate. He pictured the petitioners pressing against the barriers, their noses filled with aromas of food they’d never see, let alone taste.