The Necrosopher’s Apprentice

by Lilith Hope Milam

  The other person was someone different all together, but familiar. Stooped frame and white hair sticking out from the back of the mask. She hadn’t thought her heart could sink any further, but it did.

  “Warden Wulfgust?” she whispered, “Why?”

  She looked to the Primus. “Please, why have you brought me here? What have I done wrong?”

  She heard Wulfgust scoff underneath his mask, “You’re surprised? As far as I’m concerned, you were destined to be detained by the Assembly, you troublesome wretch.”

  “Quiet Bartholomew,” Sharpe admonished. “Just because you thought it was necessary to withdraw her from the Academy doesn’t mean that she’s of no use to us anymore.”

  “But why? Why did you take me away? And what did you do to the other students?” she cried, her legs weak from exhaustion and fear, she leaned against the workbench. The terror of abduction had finally caught up to her. She slid down to the floor fighting not to cry.

  The warden strode across the room and yanked her to her feet, “Stand in the presence of your betters!”

  Gansel cried out at the rough handling. A few of the tears that threatened to overwhelm her shook loose as the warden hissed, “So weak! No wonder you fail at everything!”

  “Is that why you took me away? Because I was failing school?” she asked, confused at the thought of the Assembly expelling her. But why bring her here? Why not just send her home?

  The warden glared at her from inside the glass eyes of his mask, then pushed her away, wiping his hands on his robes. “That’s only the start of it! You and your mother have been flies in the ointment of my ward ever since your father died and your mother refused to leave Port Myskatol! And you! Always getting in trouble, ruining the reputation of my ward!”

  Wulfgust, overcome, spun towards the Primus. “I warned-” His shriek cut short, the realization of to whom he was speaking so boldly slapped him in the face. Cowering, he jerked himself back to face Gansel, raging and spitting within his mask, “-them! They should never have given you this opportunity! Your pathetic efforts and half attempts have brought shame onto the Academy and the Assembly!”

  His voice rose once again in glee. “Now the Primus has given me the authority to erase you as I have your mother’s mind!”

  Sharpe cleared his throat, a hollow cough from within the mask. “Well, poor indignant Bartholomew, that’s actually not quite so.”

  The Warden turned away from her, his head cocked to one side. “Wh-what? Pardon me, Primus, I don’t understand. This mask must be making it hard for me to hear. You had me wipe away her mother’s memory! Are you saying that I don’t get to do the same to this whelp?” the old man protested.

  Sharpe stepped forward and moved Wulfgust away from Gansel, “You see, it behooved me to let you think that you were getting to erase the Alterblum family from our existence. The reality is that I’m going to erase her from yours.”

  His arm shot out like a snake, gripping the Warden by the back of his neck.

  Wulfgust gasped in fear and pain, trying to turn his head towards Sharpe. “Primus? What are you doing?”

  “Why, complete erasure Warden, nothing personal, of course. We all must make our sacrifices for the good of the Assembly.” he explained, “Hold still, this won’t hurt a bit. I think.”

  Sharpe reached over with his other hand and tore the mask off of the old man.

  “What are you doing?” Wulfgust squealed before clapping a hand over his mouth.

  Sharpe let go of the struggling warden. The old man ran to the door and tried the handle. It didn’t budge. He shook the door, the need to breathe spreading plainly across his face, cheeks purpling and veins pulsing in his balding temples.

  He grunted protests, hammering his fists on the door until he could hold his breath no longer. His mouth opened and he sucked in lungfuls of air. The angry color drained from his face and his mouth went slack, eyes rolling towards Gansel and Primus, he slurred, “I… who?. Dark. Want to... ”

  The warden’s eyes rolled up into the back of his head and his body went slack. He fell face first onto the floor.

  The Primus put his hands behind his back. “Well, that ties up the loose ends nicely indeed.”

  She stared at his smug calmness in shock. “What happened to him? Is this the same as what you did to my class? And what was he saying about my mother?”

  He nodded. “We’ve learned that extensive exposure to Van’log pheromones wipes the memory clean as a dusty old slate.”

  “Why would you do that, to anyone?” she peered at the warden. He was still breathing, he wasn’t dead.

  “The Assembly has learned over the years that elf blood is an extremely useful substance.” Sharpe approached and poked at the old man with the tip of his boot. “Minor exposure to untreated blood causes drowsiness and puts people into a stupor. However, in the case of the Warden and your classmates back at the Academy, extensive exposure causes the memories to reset.”

  She didn't understand, why was he telling her this?

  “What do you mean, reset? To what? Please answer me about my mother!”

  “Like that slate, I mentioned before, or like the turning over of an hourglass, those exposed forget, well, they forget everything.” He waved an arm in a wide arc. “And as their minds recover, they only remember those things that we tell them to.”

  “What is it you want them to forget?”

  Sharpe clapped his hands together and looked her, “You, little one. Right now, we want them to forget you.”

  Her mind raced, connecting events and facts. Understanding unfolded on her face, “You want me because I’m not affected by the elves! You want me to do something with their bodies?”

  She looked over at the corpses that filled the room. “With their pheromones? And you don’t want anyone to know that you… that I...”

  Sharpe smiled. “That's the girl I wanted! Right there! Yes! Exactly! I never had any real desire to have you waste your talents in academia. No! It was just a bit of a test to see how adept you were in the necrosophic arts and to further investigate your responses to various pheromones.”

  He cocked his head and waved his hands dismissively. “Oh, and it was also a useful way to keep an eye on you, so we could easily retrieve you when the time came.”

  “Time for what?” she said, caution edging her words.

  “Time for the start of a very special project! You see, I know every alchemist and potion peddler in Port Myskatol. They make the finest elixirs in the world, but not one of them can withstand the effects of the Van’log.”

  He walked over to the nearest body. "You see, we suspect that we can glean several resources from their withered flesh, with your assured assistance."

  “I’m not going to help you! I’m not going to do anything for you!” she yelled. Who did he think he was? Why should she do anything for the Assembly?

  The Primus nodded. “I understand. You don’t yet know that we’ve already made that decision for you.”

  He rapped heavily on the door. She heard the bar raised outside and it swung open.

  Stepping to the side, he gestured for her to leave. “Please, as a show of trust, feel free to journey back to your Ward and check on your mother.”

  Wide-eyed, she looked at the door, then back. She stepped towards the exit.

  Sharpe put a hand on her shoulder, “Just keep this in mind, we have made it as if you never existed. And, we can mend what we’ve broken, if you cooperate.”

  ✽✽✽

  Gansel entered her house, sweat dripping down her face and soaking her clothes Her shins and feet ached from running across the city. Her heart pounded painfully in her chest.

  “Mama! Mama! Where are you?” she screamed, but the words came out in dry gasps.

  The downstairs was empty, baskets of unwashed clothes piled up on the kitchen table. Her eyes fell on the small sideboard where they worked together making potions and cutting herbs.

  Breathless, she stagg
ered upstairs.

  The bedroom was also empty, the bedsheets pulled back and the pillows on the floor. She picked up the pillows and put them on the bed. Where was she? What had the Assembly done to her?

  She sat on the edge of the bed and put her face in her hands. She was so tired, she had been up all night. Nothing made sense, everything seemed to be falling apart around her. What was she going to do? She tried to not be afraid, to keep her emotions under control, but she had no energy left to be strong. Her eyes filled up and the tears trickled down her freckled cheeks. Soon, tears turned to sobs. She curled up on the unmade bed. Her body convulsed as she screamed into her pillow.

  Her mind raced through a maze of terror. Every time she tried to understand what was going on and what she needed to do to escape her predicament, she came to a dead end. Around every corner, the Assembly, Primus Sharpe, and the dead elves. She finally passed out, emotionally exhausted.

  She awoke when the sun was high above the buildings, its light ambient and warm. Her mouth was dry and tasted foul. Her eyes were swollen from crying. She felt empty inside, like a wineskin drained and dried.

  Downstairs, she heard noises, shuffling feet on hard floors, small clicks of cupboards opening and shutting, bottles pushed about below. Someone was down there and puttering in the cabinets!

  Breath shallow and light, she tiptoed downstairs. She didn’t want to make her presence known if was someone from the Assembly. As she made her way down the stairs, every muscle in her body ached from running and crying.

  Peeking from the top of the stairway, she saw her mother on her hands and knees, rummaging under the sink and muttering to herself, “Darkness! Where is it? Where did it get to? Who moved my soap? I’ve got to find my soap. I’ve got to get everything clean! Toil begets purity! Purity begets cleanliness! Cleanliness begets inspiration! I've got to cleanse it all! I don’t feel the Spirit! I can’t have lost my inspiration! I can’t! I must cleanse myself. Purity!”

  Gansel moved into the kitchen. “Mama? What’s wrong?”

  Lore spun around, screaming at her daughter’s voice. Frightened and scrambling away from the sink she shrieked, “Who are you? What are you doing in my house?”

  She stepped towards her mother, hand stretched out to help her up. “Mama, it’s me, Ganny. What’s wrong?”

  Her mother stood up, backing up against the sink “I don’t know you! I don’t know you! Why are you in my house? You! It was you! You took my soap!”

  Dark circles had pooled under her mother’s eyes. Her hair was disheveled and her clothes were dirty and in disarray. “What did they do to you, Mama?”

  Anger burst forth on Lore’s face, teeth bared in a dog’s snarl, “I’m not your mother! I don’t know you! Where’s my soap?!”

  “Mama, don’t say that it’s me, Mama!” Fresh, hot tears welled up, stinging her swollen eyes.

  “It was you! You stole my soap!” Lore grabbed a rolling pin from a table and held it up over her head. “Give it back! Give it to me! Give me my soap! Thief! Gutter trash!”

  She crossed the room and before Gansel could say anything else, her mother brought the rolling pin down at her head. Gansel flinched and threw up her arm, catching the blow. There was a crack and white, hot pain ran up her arm. She screamed and turned to run out of the house.

  “Subhuman filth! Come back here! Give me my soap!”

  Gansel fell out the door and into the garden. A ceramic bowl came flying after her, striking her hip and shattering. More pain, streaking down her leg. But she had to get up. She had to run.

  Staggering out into the alley, she could hear her mother screaming at her and sobbing over the loss of her soap. Is that what the Primus meant? Did Wulfgust do this to mother? Had they really erased her mother’s mind?

  She had to get away from here. Where could she go? This all seemed so unreal. She limped out to the street and wandered aimlessly. She needed someplace safe. Somewhere she could sit and think.

  Sometime later Gansel found herself standing by the harbor. To the north, she could see the naval yard and the warehouse she had run from. Tired, she sat down on the wharf, her legs dangling over the edge.

  Looking into the water, she saw random flotsam clumped together along the seawall. Old rags, driftwood, a bottle, reflections of herself, empty, tired, and alone. Where could rest, be safe? If the Primus was to be believed, no one would remember her at the Academy either.

  She jerked her head up with a gasp. They hadn’t mentioned anyone in Frogtown! Did they not think she’d consider going there? Did they overlook Tymuld and Tar’dur?

  Briefly, she considered running to Tymuld’s, the old tavern owned by her father, and hiding away.

  Until when? Surely they would find her eventually. That would only bring the Assembly to her friend’s door and it would all be her fault. The thought of seeing her mother’s lost, the desperate expression on the faces of her friends chilled her.

  She sat there for hours, still in her school uniform until she shivered in the cool evening air and missed the shawl her mother had knit her. Matron Schraube had never given it back. She didn’t think she’d ever see it again. Everything was different now.

  Her mind raced in circles trying to think of a way out of this. It was no use though, she was stuck. No home, her mother was lost to her. No friends, there wasn’t anyone else other than Tymuld and Tar’dur. Shame flushed her cheeks as she remembered her last conversation with Tymuld. She’d fin no love there either. None of the human kids had ever wanted to be around her. No school, they’d likely forgotten her and wouldn’t admit her if she sought shelter there.

  Her stomach growled, when was the last time she ate? Yesterday? Yes, lunch in the dining hall before she attempted to study in the library. It had been as successful as anything else at the academy. That was to say, not at all.

  It had been so disheartening, she tried hard to understand the materials, but her mind always went blank whenever she looked at the things they had studied the past month.

  Mathematics were the worst. She knew there must be some foundational principle she was missing, but her mind would go numb and blank whenever she had tried to find it. No matter how much she tried, it never sunk in. Maybe the Primus and awful old Wulfgust were right, maybe she was useless at everything but being an elf-sniffing freak.

  There was another clenching pang in her stomach. She needed to eat. But where would she get food? She didn’t dare try and steal food from a merchant’s stall or store. The Assembly harshly punished anyone they caught stealing. She’d probably just fail if she tried and she was already in enough trouble with them.

  Darkness seeped across the bay and she could see lights blink on in the warehouse across the way. Was the Primus there now? Should she just go back?

  She knew that he’d send someone after her eventually and being escorted back would certainly be as unpleasant as the last time, maybe worse if he was angry. What if she did go back? They’d have to give her food and shelter if they expected her to work. Access to those necessities seemed otherwise non-existent.

  She was so tired. She wanted something to eat and some rest. If going back to Sharpe provided those, then so be it. Sitting on a cold dock moping wasn’t going to help anything. She had to survive. If she could she find a way on her own to restore her mother, she had to try. The only person who would help her out of this was herself.

  The rain was falling steadily when she arrived, soaked through and shivering, at the nearest gate leading into the Martial Ward.

  The Underkeepers must have been expecting her because as soon as they saw her they escorted her to the warehouse without a word.

  There was a sign posted outside that she hadn’t seen earlier when they dragged her inside.

  ‘WARNING!’ was posted in bold black letters on yellow with a smaller notice beneath. ‘This is a Restricted Area as Declared by the League of Elders, under the Authority of His Royal Highness, Duke Galter, High Lord of Eldervost, Ward of the Dixwari, and B
earer of the Witherbrande.’

  Even smaller print below that cautioned, ‘Illegal Entry is Forbidden under the Threat of Excommunication. All Persons herein are liable to Search and Seizure without Specific Authorization from the Primus. Deadly Force is Approved.’

  Her escort pounded on the door. A small window popped open and passwords were whispered in exchange. The window snapped shut and the door opened.

  Her escort released her and took several quick steps away. Her eyes followed him and she saw another detail she had missed before, a yellow line painted on the ground. It was a semi-circle around the door she now stood alone in front of. The soldier had stepped well outside of it and she was at its center.

  Two masked guards stepped out from the open doorway. They all looked the same to her wearing the leather and glass contraptions, she had no idea if they were the ones from before. The one to her right grabbed her arm and propelled her inside.

  The heavy storm clouds ensured that once the door shut behind them, it was even darker inside than on her last visit. Lamps were lit to guide them down the short hall to the room full of elves.

  She smelled them as soon as she entered the building, her nose itched at the scent. She didn't feel as light headed as yesterday though. Was she getting used to the effects?

  The interior door unbolted and the guards shoved her inside, slamming the heavy door behind her with a clang.

  The room was well lit tonight. Each table had its own lamp illuminating the corpse it supported. Now that she could see everything, it wasn't as foreboding as before, or maybe she was getting used to seeing dead elves too. The familiar clinical nature that she appreciated about the Academy's laboratory disengaged her fear somewhat as well. Order and process were evident everywhere. Was this Primus Sharpe's personal lab? She appreciated his attention to detail.

  At the far end of the room, he bent over one of the elves. Next to him was a strange device on a cart. Tubes ran from the elf's abdomen, into a console on the top, then out the sides and into a set of jars. The device clicked and clacked and whirred. With each click, white fluid dripped into the jars.