The Necromancer's Apprentice

by R. M. Prioleau

  “Banin,” Master Dagg promptly growled in annoyance, as if recalling some past memories of his own. “I know all about him. He and his band of idiots intend to kill me for a crime I am not responsible for. I am an arcanist – ”

  “ – You are a necromancer,” I suddenly corrected. My eyes looked up to him, coming to some realizations of my own. The next thing I saw was his hand coming towards my face and the feeling of sharp pains in my cheek.

  “Do not correct me again, you foolish girl,” he growled warningly, “or I will sever that tongue of yours.”

  I shivered and rubbed my red, stinging cheek. Looking to the floor, I chewed on my bottom lip nervously. “F – Forgive me, Master Dagg,” I said apologetically. “I did not mean it as an insult. It's just that you work with the dead on a daily basis. You are a master of the art of death.”

  “‘Necromancy’ is a term coined by those who do not understand nor appreciate the true beauty of the Art,” he explained. “You would do well to remember that, Jasmine; else, I will find other, more creative ways of reminding you.”

  I cringed. “That ... That will not be necessary.”

  His demeanor suddenly changed to a more calm state as he pulled away from me to resume unpacking the other supply bag. “Good, because I would hate to have to destroy a perfectly-good test subject due to insolence. It has been over three months since I rescued you from your impending doom.” He paused and shot me a brief, warning gaze. “Do not make me regret my decision.”

  I nodded slowly, not looking up from the floor. Master Dagg made me into the person I was and thus, had the power to also break me whenever he wished. I was sealed in this debt, not knowing for how long I would remain bound to him. My mind continuously went over the earlier meeting with Banin and I slowly lifted my eyes towards Master Dagg.

  “May I ask you something?” I asked in a meek voice.

  He casually pulled out a covered jar from the bag and met my gaze. “Yes?”

  I swallowed, trying to piece together the right words to say. “How do you ... justify your residence here and the death-inducing blight?”

  Master Dagg simply smiled his set of sharp fangs at me, which made him appear more frightening than comforting. “Is that what he told you? That I am some evil creature who is responsible for this blight? Is that what your feeble little mind has been manipulated to believe?”

  My eyes gazed suspiciously at him. “It's what I know about you.”

  “You know nothing about me except what little you've seen and have been told,” he scoffed.

  I fell silent. Perhaps he might have been lying to me all this time, but I had my doubts. I could sense that deep feeling of passion in his eyes whenever he was drawn into his work. His love for the Necromantic Arts was without question.

  “Tell me this, then,” I finally said. “Are you really a Dragon?”

  The smile remained plastered on his face and his eyes regarded me with mild amusement. “Do you think I am?”

  “Banin spoke of a black Dragon that resides in the swamps. I don't want to ‘think’ you are that Dragon or not. I want to know the facts.”

  “Do you, now? Interesting, you certainly did not feel this way moments ago when you were so quick to believe what you wanted and take it as fact.”

  I sighed in exasperation of his sharp mind – and an even sharper tongue – and finally threw my hands up in frustration. “All right, I'm sorry for misconstruing you, Master Dagg. I wish to know the truth about you. I wish to know why Banin is hunting a Dragon. I wish to know the source of this blight.”

  “More questions,” he laughed and simply turned to place the covered jar on a shelf with several others. “Banin is a vile man bent on ignorance. His hatred for me spurs from mere assumptions and misunderstandings. He's become more of a thorn in my side than anything else. Like most slayers, he believes the Dragons are the bane of existence and the cause of the world's sufferings. He would love nothing more than to be rid of our kind once and for all. While I'm not a religious man, even I know that it is against the Goddess Celestra's will to harm our race in any manner. I practice the ... ‘Forbidden Arts’ – as ignorant humans tend to more elegantly associate ‘Necromancy’ – for my own knowledge and understanding. I have no intentions or desires to abuse what I consider a ‘hauntingly beautiful’ art.”

  My brow furrowed in confusion. “So ... You are really the Dragon he is hunting?”

  “Indeed, I am,” he replied simply. Once he had finished rearranging his supplies, he began traversing the laboratory, gathering stray books.

  I frowned, watching him. “Yet, you appear to be human ...” When he passed by, I handed him the notebook I was ‘reading’ earlier.

  He snatched it from me and smiled shrewdly. “Our kind possesses the ability to shape-shift into other forms at will.” After gathering the rest of the books, he went to the bookshelf and began arranging them one by one. “You ask many questions that you already know the answers to,” he continued, his back turned to me while he worked, “yet, you fail to ask the most obvious one.”

  My eyes widened slightly in surprise. The questions I did ask were merely based on assumptions and doubts, but I sought to justify their credibility. Master Dagg's comment only further reminded me of just how closely-linked he and I had become over the past few months of my apprenticeship.

  “What do you hope to understand from working with the dead?” I finally asked again after taking a few moments to think on his words.

  His smile widened slightly, as though my latter question had been the very one he was waiting for me to ask. “Despite my physical appearance, I am very old beyond my years, Jasmine. When a Dragon dies, they pass through what is called the Twilight stage – the stage in which their body returns to the goddess Celestra, their creator. There is still so much in this world I have yet to experience and I wish to preserve my life just a little longer. Life Preservation is something believed that only the gods themselves are capable of, but my studies of the dead and undead have opened up new discoveries of this notion. I feel as though I am so close to perfecting this. Now that you have come, it is all but a matter of time.”

  I nodded slowly, trying to make some sense of his reasoning. “Are you trying to become a god, yourself?” I asked, dumbfounded.

  Master Dagg chuckled darkly. “No, My Dear, though, it would be nice, wouldn't it?”

  “Then, are you simply trying to live longer than most Dragons?” I tilted my head to the side.

  He approached me and leaned against the edge of the table, looking thoughtful. “I care not about what the other Dragons do,” he said. “My issues are my own. That is my prerogative.”

  The notion of having such god-like abilities nearly frightened me. What would become of the world should someone as sinister as Master Dagg acquire such malefic power? I thought.

  “Now that you know my secret, I guess I will have to kill you, hmm?” he said jokingly, though I could hear the slight seriousness in his tone of voice which was more of a warning gesture towards me.

  I swallowed nervously. “N ... No, you don't need to do that. I will not tell anyone of this, I swear.”

  “Good,” he paused and his gaze hardened as though struck with a new thought. “Banin did not see you come in here, did he?”

  “No! Of course, not!” I answered promptly. “I remained elsewhere around the swamps until he left, but I think he knows you reside somewhere in the area.”

  Another annoyed hiss escaped his lips. He picked up a stray beaker containing dark blue fluid and examined it. “There is one thing I truly hate about slayers,” he began, “and that is the fact that they are persistent. If he wants to deal with a necromancer, then I will send forth an army of zombified harpies for his pleasure.”

  I blinked at his words, thinking that he was merely jesting at first, but the stern look in his eyes told me otherwise.

  He carefully covered the beaker, walked over to one of the bookshelves and placed it in a secure spot
on the top shelf. As he prepared to leave, he glanced back at me.

  “I need you to separate three milliliters of vampiric blood into those small vials there,” he instructed as he gestured to the far end of the table where four, small, empty vials and two larger ones filled with a dark crimson liquid were sitting. “Afterwards, they need to be heated to 270 degrees until the curdles form. Separate the curdles and place them into one of the glass jars on the shelf.” He then added in a warning tone, “Do be certain to finish this before I return.”

  I looked at the vials for a moment, then back to him. While the task didn't sound too complex, I had recalled watching him do the very same before. It was a process which required extra precision and care due to the nature of certain vampiric blood being acidic when heated to extreme temperatures and could literally eat away at whatever it came in contact with. I nodded slowly to Master Dagg in confirmation and turned to begin working when another thought crossed my mind.

  “Master Dagg, may I ask you one last thing?” I looked at him.

  Another annoyed sigh was heard and he turned back around. “Yes? What is it ... ?”

  “What is the true cause of the blight upon our lands?”

  He took a moment to think on the question before finally crossing his arms. “The cause of the ‘blight’ is of the gods' choosing. There is no Dragon; no evil monster; and no wicked, wild magic causing this. It is the natural lifecycle of the world. The very same has happened since the dawn of civilization and it will happen again in the future. The world suffers, only to recover once more. That is how the balance between life and death is maintained. The minds of lesser creatures are so feeble that they will believe just about anything due to fear. They fear what they do not understand. That is why Banin and all the other wretched Dragon-slayers in the world are foolish in their ways, believing in such ridiculous notions and superstitions. Soon, however, they will see the errs in their ways.”

  I felt skeptical about the matter. Master Dagg made it all sound so simple, but I couldn't bring myself to believe that the continuous ceasing of life in our country was solely a natural occurrence.

  “Is it ... natural to be amongst the only forms of life out here in the swamps?” I asked. “Is it natural to not encounter anyone or anything else from the outside world for so long?”

  “The swamps are not a place that most humans would care to visit on a regular basis,” he replied. “My reason for being here is to get away from life so that I can focus on death.” He paused, reviewing the confused expression on my face and huffed. “Believe what you will, Jasmine. Your mind is fragile and naive like the rest of them. I speak from centuries of experience. If the words of this old Dragon mean so little to you, then I will not waste my breath trying to convince you otherwise.”

  Before I could reply, he stormed out of the laboratory in a huff, leaving me to continue my work in silence. However, my mind never ceased its racing thoughts.

  If Master Dagg came here to escape life, then am I truly dead?

  Chapter 9

  Hunger struck me again once I had finished my tasks. With Master Dagg still away, I decided it was an ideal opportunity to go hunting again. The cave was quiet, save for the occasional sounds of dripping water and the stray winds that passed through the small crevices in the walls and ceiling. I also heard the faint, pattering sounds of rain above, which affirmed my assumptions of the swamps being shrouded in more dreary weather. I stopped by my sleeping quarters briefly and changed my dirtied clothes. The long, white and black-trimmed, frilled dress I wore that day had begun showing signs of tearing in different places. I could only imagine how beautiful the dress must have looked when it was worn on its last victim. That same elegance and beauty did not have the desired effect on my own frail body, as much as Master Dagg wanted me to believe when he gave me the dress. I felt like a tainted soul wrapping myself in clothes so pure and once full of life and energy.

  I changed into a cleaner, knee-length black dress which also carried a similar design. Master Dagg spoiled me with such beautiful gifts. He seemed to make quite an effort to choose certain designs. In just the short months I had been with Master Dagg, my body had become more pale and frail in appearance. While I did feel stronger inside, often, I had feared my body would eventually wither away at some point.

  After getting dressed, I left the cave and surveyed the wetlands. The rains poured down relentlessly, showing no signs of stopping anytime soon. Several, large puddles began forming near the banks, which soon merged into the larger bodies of water. For a moment, I simply stood and allowed the rushing rains to drench me. Strands of my snow-white hair stuck to the sides of my face and along my neck, dripping endlessly with excess water. The dress I wore lost its natural outward flare once the heavy rains penetrated it. I discovered a new beauty within the dress's seemingly drab features.

  The air was cool and refreshing, despite the sudden chills that ran through my drenched body. The skies, though cloudy, were dark enough to ascertain that it was nearing dusk or evening time. After many weeks of routine and practice, I eventually learned the times of day when the larger morsels of food would emerge.

  Hoping that I would have better luck this time, I proceeded towards the banks and into the shallow waters, which only went just above my calves when I waded in fully. With the constant, pouring rains, however, it wouldn't be long before the water's level rose even higher. It was difficult to make out the fish below with the raindrops disturbing the water's surface.

  It took several minutes of trial and error until I finally managed to spot a medium-sized carp swimming around near the bank. As I moved in to catch it, I suddenly stopped in my tracks upon noticing a large shadow moving across the ground. Quickly losing interest in my meal, I looked to the skies.

  The large, faint outline of a creature that circled the area was practically camouflaged against the dark clouds. It continued this patterned motion for several minutes, as though it had been watching me from above.

  I remained perfectly still and kept my eyes on it, preparing to sprint for the cave entrance should it attempt to dive towards me. Through the hissing of the rushing rains, my ears perked at another faint sound of sloshing swamp waters in the distance.

  I briefly drew my eyes from what circled above and averted them towards the new presence. The image of several men could be discerned through the mist caused by the pouring rains. I hesitated in running now, fearing that I had already been spotted from afar. I began treading deeper into the swampy terrain where the water level continued drawing further up my legs.

  The band of eight men drew nearer and I soon made out Banin's armored form leading the group. The other men were dressed similarly, each with various types of weapons drawn.

  I suddenly began running through the waters, sloshing noisily, not caring at this point that my beautiful dress was becoming stained with the murky waters that splashed upon it.

  “Miss!” Banin's voice called out. “What are you doing out there?! It's dangerous! Please, come back before you get hurt!”

  I immediately froze upon hearing Banin's booming voice and looked behind me.

  The other men stopped and sheathed their weapons at their leader's behest. Afterwards, Banin made a small gesture to one of them and he dashed towards me.

  I immediately broke into a full sprint to get away from the stranger, attempting to run as far away from the cave as possible. Looking back briefly, the armored man was still chasing me and approaching quickly with his long strides in contrast to my own. As I prepared to change direction in order to confuse him further, I felt my left foot sink down into the murky ground, my sudden movements causing it to torque unnaturally, which sent a wave of pain down my leg. I went down quickly, my body crashing into a heap and becoming covered in mud and murk. I whimpered in pain and my eyes blurred from the rain hitting them.

  The armor-clad man caught up to me; pulled me effortlessly out of the mess and then carried me back to his comrades.

  I
wanted to struggle against him, but my body was too numbed to do so. I leaned my head back in his arms and stared up at the sky, hoping to find that mysterious flying creature again, but it was gone.

  I felt my body slip gently out of the stranger's arms and into Banin's own. My eyes darted towards Banin's large form fearfully, but I made no effort to escape.

  “Girl, are you mad?!” Banin exclaimed, his voice muffled through the sounds of the drenching rains. “There is a Dragon afoot and you are foolishly running around these swamps!”

  I wanted to smile at his words, but the sharp pain in my leg prevented me from doing so. Instead, I maintained a calculating stare into his own brown eyes, hoping he would be wise enough to turn back while he was still able. Master Dagg still hadn't returned from his errands; though, I did not wish to see the displeased look on his face if he ever caught me in Banin's clutches.

  My cold, silent staring made Banin appear uneasy. He promptly averted his gaze towards the rest of the swamp as though he were expecting to see the Dragon at any moment.

  Banin held me close to his body in a protective gesture as he yelled out to the ghostly shadows that danced about the area. “We know you are here, Necromancer! You were foolish enough to show yourself in Lakis with that pathetic disguise. You cannot fool us any longer! Show yourself!”

  I had my doubts in Master Dagg showing up, but I still watched the area expectantly.

  As the rains finally began showing the slightest signs of calming, the creature from the skies returned. It circled us from above again, its shadow looming like a hungry vulture.

  Suddenly, several large, feathered forms fell lifelessly from the creature and into the murk around us.

  Banin and his men scrambled about, trying to dodge the incoming attacks from the sky, which, upon closer inspection, were actually decaying harpy corpses.