《The Inquisition's Necromancer》


 Chapter 01: A Dead Noblemans Killer

    The issue with being a Necromancer is that people err on the side of distrust with you. People automatically assume you''re about three steps from summoning an undead horde at any given moment, and even when you tell them it was "just the one time", funnily enough, no one ever believes you.


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    "Please state your full name in life and your cause of death for all those present," I said into the still air, unable to hide the boredom.A phantasm of green mist formed in the space before me, and the lighting in the clearing seemed to dim in its presence. I heard the usual fearful murmurs behind me, the unsheathing of hands on iron weapons, and fought the urge to roll my non-existent eyes.


    After five years, I would have thought there''d have been less unease... but there was not. If anything, there was more.


    "I was... Sir Mallory of Galveston Court."The voice is emanating from within the spirit; no voice could have issued forth from his mouth, as the jaw was hanging by tattered, gory shreds off one side. Ethereal splatters of blood covered his torn and ruined silk garments, a pale green echo of the rotting corpse just a foot to my left.


    "Excellent," I said, drumming my fingers across the pages of my Necronomicon floating just before me. "And your cause of death?"


    There was a long pause, and the voice took a moment to form. It sounded almost as if it were traveling from a long distance, a faint echo pronounced in the forming of words as they were pulled directly from the River of Souls.


    "I was brutally murdered,"he said finally.


    "Could''ve supplied that myself," I muttered. Louder, I added, "Who killed you?"


    The ghost had the audacity to look affronted. Its pale eyes were voids of green mists, and his matted hair shook with his indignation as he said,"It is against the Gentleman''s Code to reveal my opponent."


    I glanced at his desecrated corpse. Apart from the bludgeoned face, his body had been brutally stabbed enough times that the blade of the dagger had broken off into the ruined cavity of his chest... a detail that the detestable Court Physician had been only too pleased to reveal.


    "Last I checked," I said, turning back to the spirit, "it was alsoagainst the Gentleman''s Code to bludgeon you to death during a duel, and then to desecrate your corpse."


    Sir Mallory turned to look upon his own body, and I watched him deflate as he took it in, perhaps realizing the fullness of his situation.


    "Yes,"he said. "I suppose that that is true."He turned back to me. "My murderer was known to me. I had called on him to answer for the brutal slaying of my daughter, Penelope."


    I heard the shifting of movement behind me; despite my explicit command to remain back, as per usual, Lord Ashwin of Rivaine ignored me entirely and strode up beside me. He was shaking with heavy emotion, the time-worn lines in his face unusually pronounced. He looked far older than I had become used to seeing him.


    "Mallory," he said, voice thick with emotion, eyes trained on his old friend. "Why wouldn''t you come to me? How could you chase this killer on your own?"


    "I had been coming to you for years,"Sir Mallory''s ghost responded, morose. "I had been warning you for years, Ash. You failed to heed my concerns, and my daughter Penelope paid the price when she turned down the advances of your son and heir, the young Lord Gallant."


    My eyebrows shot up, and behind me, the shocked voices of the Inquisition rose in horror. I was not expecting such drama today,I thought idly.


    "You lie!" Ashwin''s accusation ripped from him, and he turned on me, eyes flashing in anguish and rage. "You! You filthy witch! You see your opportunity to hurt me, and you take it!"Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Despite his spitting mere inches from my face, I picked lightly at my obsidian robes. "I am not a witch, Commander. I am a Necromancer, which you well know and which I state for the sake of semantics, and in the five years I have been forced to answer to you, I believe I flatter myself in saying that I have never once inspired even a hint of the cruelty you now accuse me of." Even if I have wished to do something of the sort,I added quietly to myself.


    "You laugh at my pain!" His voice cracked. "You summoned this spirit and you pull its strings to taunt me, to declare my son capable of such murder!"


    "If you will not listen to me in life, then listen to me in death!"The voice of Sir Mallory suddenly cracked out in eternal agony, and the lighting in the glade dimmed heavily, as if a storm had blown in over the course of mere moments. A hush fell over us all, and though Ashwin stiffened at the enraged tone of his old friend, he refused to look at him, even as the spirit continued to wail. "Your son has always been violent and brutal and harsh! He has abused women and killed prostitutes on mere fancy! You have used your position of power to cover it up for years! His bloodthirsty desires run rampant and unchecked, all under the excuse of ''boyish mischief''! You have cost me my daughter, and my life!"


    I watched, wary, as the mists that made up the form of the spirit began to solidify, flaring out in agitation. The glow of the eyes shifted toward a scarlet hue- the colors of an enraged spirit quickly reaching the point of no return. Sir Mallory was becoming dangerous... but I had yet a little time.


    "Heed my words,"Mallory wailed, "should you continue to ignore me, the inevitable shall pass; the streets of Cordona shall be filled with blood, and it shall be on your head! If I must, I will dedicate my afterlife, the essence of my being, my spirit, into driving you to madness if you do not-"


    "No, no, you shall not," I said, and I curled my fingers over my book. The pages flashed to a spell, the words burst into green flames, and Sir Mallory blanched; the color of his spirit faded once more into a pale green, emerald flames flickering about the tips of my fingers. "Remember your true nature, Sir Mallory, or I shall be forced to return you to the River and Abyssus himself."


    Silence fell again on the glade, and Sir Mallory watched Lord Ashwin with dark, sulking eyes. They no longer shone the blood hungry scarlet of an angry spirit.


    Lord Ashwin seemed to cave into himself. Behind us, muttering started up once more amongst the Inquisition''s soldiers, and the tone of it was filled with reproach, resentment, distrust, and a dangerous undercurrent of anger.


    "Commander," I said quietly. I did not look at him- the soulless, green flames that had replaced my eyes would bring no comfort to anyone here. "I know you do not seek my counsel, but you must retain your sense of duty, or your men will defect."


    Ashwin continued to look at the mossy floor of the glade. His shoulders had lost all their proud strength. "Would you give me advice, Necromancer?" His tone was cold and pained. "Is it out of pity?"


    "Does it matter? If you do not get a hold of yourself, Commander, you will be turned on by men who are willing to uphold the value of justice that you so easily spat on. Your son is a murderer, one that you have supported unintentionally, or so I assume. To put it bluntly, Commander: Get a hold of yourself, and do your job."


    "You ask me to arrest my son and charge him to death for murder."


    "Just as you have charged the sons of so many others before him."


    He gave me a disgusted look, lip curling. "You must be celebrating my downfall, Necromancer. I have known that you disliked me for years, now."


    I shrugged, flipping my long hair, deep and feathery like the wings of a raven, over my other shoulder. "Whether I am or not is irrelevant. Do as you wish, for I have no stake in this game. Do not ask me to defend you, for the loyalty I am forced to display is toward the Queen... not you."


    The murmurs behind us began to rise in unrest as Lord Ashwin yet refused to answer to the accusations levied against his son. Flickers of scarlet fire were already beginning once again to spark in the eyes of Sir Mallory, cowering before me but watching Ashwin like a coiled snake.


    "We must return to Cordona," Ashwin said aloud; silence fell as he lifted his head at last, rapt upon him. "We move to arrest my son, the Lord Gallant of Rivaine, to be tried and judged in the Queen''s Court."


    I watched his ramrod back as he strode through the rank and file of his own men, who watched him with a mixture of disgust, pity, and scorn, before I turned at last to Sir Mallory.


    "Your death shall be avenged, and you bring an end to the murders that have been plaguing all of Cordona," I said formally.


    "Thank you, Necromancer,"Mallory whispered, before I flicked my fingers, and his spirit drifted down through the earth, through the mortal plane, onward toward the River of Souls.


    An end to the murders,I thought, as I turned and followed in the wake of the Inquisition. A deep, moody silence filled the ranks. The joy of past investigations was no longer present; long had we hunted this killer when the women disappearing became too great to count, the bodies too mangled for me to question, the spirits too angry and lost to summon.


    Mallory had been a mistake, but he would be the downfall of Ashwin''s long career... and then, I wondered, who would take his place as the keeper of the Woman who Nearly Ended the World?

 Chapter 02: Such a Disappointment

    "You must be taking great enjoyment in this."


    I glanced to my right to find that the unusually young High Court Physician and Doctor was now walking beside me. Despite the sincere lack of plagues in recent times, he had permanently adorned a plague doctor''s mask, presumably because he enjoyed the unease the bird-like mask brought to those he administered to. The eminent Doctor Hiero was one of the more unpleasant members of the Queen''s High Court, but he was also one of the most vital... particularly when it came to the Inquisition.


    "I take no enjoyment in anything," I said, as blandly as I could muster. Boredom was one of two surefire methods in frightening off the disgusting locust.


    "You know that this scandal will end Ashwin''s career." Hiero''s voice was nasally, and it somehow emphasized the cruel enjoyment lacing his words, muted though it was by the thick leather of his mask. Were the man not shackled by a distinct lack of magical talent, he likely would have made quite the Necromancer, himself... or at least a man capable of horrific and unbridled serial murder.


    "Whether it destroys him or not is the least of my concerns," I said. "I have no will but to serve the Inquisition... as is ordered of me." I lazily waved a wrist at him; the long, flared sleeve of my robes dropped back to reveal one of the abysidian manacles clapped to both of my wrists, the runes glittering menacingly in multifaceted colors.


    "And then what, I wonder?" Hiero cackled. "Do you still dream of destruction and hordes marching upon the Queen''s Seat, Necromancer?"


    "If undead hordes ensured the ceasing of our exceptionally ill-favored discussions, I should probably summon them hourly, were I able."


    "Come, now. You must be getting some sort of enjoyment from this debacle, my dear. Commander Ashwin has shown you no kindness these five years."


    "I never believed for a moment that he would do otherwise."


    "Summoning the dead to reveal their secrets... there is some joy, to me, in watching them spill forth their sordid tales at your command."


    "I am deeply grateful that the gods saw fit to keep you from the arcane arts, Hiero. Your obsession with death is beastly."


    "Says the Necromancer," he cackled.


    I turned the full force of my gaze on him, and he made the mistake of turning his leathery beak toward me, the glass unable to keep back the flames that had taken the place of my mortal sight. Not that it stopped me from seeing what mortals saw... it just allowed me to see more, and to show shrews like the eminent Doctor Hieronymous of Cordona the ghosts of their failures.


    The emerald flames flickered in the reflection of his mask''s glass eyes, and he flinched, drawing back from me as he would to no one else, not even Queen Amaridae herself.


    "Away with you," I hissed, a faint echo to my voice, and I was sure the Doctor heard the voices I heard behind my own words- the screams of failed patients, test subjects, and tortured prisoners, all in the name of his science, a subject he swore was for the good of all... and which was really for the good of one.


    Very, very few could look me in the eyes, and Hiero was not one of them.


    The man was quite the puppet on a string, himself, acting the cold, disinterested court Physician and Doctor, but he was no better than any other mortal. When he flinched once more away from me, I knew it bothered him that he could not bear the full brunt of my gaze.


    "As you wish, Necromancer," he said coldly, and strode off toward a flank of the Inquisition. I pitied the dismayed soldiers, but not enough to intervene. No guilt plagued my cold heart.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    I sighed, rolling my shoulders and flexing my wrists, which cracked. The clanking of the manacles sounded with my movements, great deadmetal things inscribed with the runes of Abyssus himself, god over the Dead Pits and the River of Souls. The Queen held power over me, owned me like a dog; she had handed the "leash" of my existence over to Commander Ashwin for his work with the Inquisition, which, with my capture, had become a glorified crime solving militia.


    Even if Ashwin was dethroned from his position of command, control over me would simply be bestowed upon whoever the Queen deemed worthy or responsible or... whatever.


    We returned to town, which was muted with unease and unrest in the wake of so many murders. First through Low Side, then Mid Side, and then finally, Upper Side, past increasingly expensive and lavish manors and parks. Lord Ashwin clearly wished to take his son by surprise, allowing no time for any warnings. The Inquisition marched upon the dolled up quarter of the city''s nobility, and Queen Amaridae would likely hear of it, repeatedly, nonstop, for weeks.


    Good.


    His home here, of course, was one of the more stately works of monetary excess at the top of the highest hill- and by no means his only residence, nor even his main. Only the Queen''s own castle towered above it, and it was fascinatingly ostentatious with its black marble columns edged in gold, the stained glass windows portraying tasteless depictions of over-exaggerated battles between none-other than him... and myself.


    As if he did more than just stand there and distract me.


    I knew Ashwin''s desires even before he began to turn and look for me; I strode to the front of the main body, ignoring the soldiers that flinched away from me. Five years, and not a soul here had overcome the fear of the "undead sorceress". I stepped up beside the awaiting Ashwin, who took a moment to gesture to a smaller flank, signaling the remaining body to stay behind. He was pale and sallow, and sweat collected on his brow; his eyes were sunk into his face.


    The inside of the manor was, of course, richly furnished. Beautifully ornate, imported rugs of surprisingly dark, muted colors adorned black marble floors, and staircases of white marble like porcelain curved upward toward another floor. Perfectly carved silhouettes of Ashwin and his son adorned the railings of the stairs; the oversized paintings that leered down at us depicted only Ashwin and his son. Unease filled the small rank and file, and I felt it too; the house was unreasonably quiet, and not a servant responded to our entrance.


    "Where is your head butler, my Lord?" This was the young Captain that had accompanied the unit; Ashwin did not respond directly to him.


    "My son will be in his inner sanctum," he said instead, leading the way. We followed directly behind, and for the first time in 5 years, the soldiers stepped closer to me.


    How quickly the tables could turn.


    My Necronomicon flickered at my side, a pretty green glow about its pages. I frowned at Ashwin''s back. He was distracted, the scent of sweat and anxiety coming off of him thick enough that even I could smell it. A thought occurred to me, but it was so outrageous compared to what I knew of Ashwin that I immediately banished it.


    The "inner sanctum", as Ashwin had referred to it, was indeed inner. We passed through halls so equally ostentatious to all that came before it, that it began to all wash together in my vision. I heard the soldiers beginning to mutter about getting lost, and I wondered idly if this was Ashwin''s intent- or perhaps his son''s.


    "Is it much further, my Lord?" The Captain of the flank that Ashwin had commanded to follow him spoke up after several minutes of this and the tense, thick silence.


    Ashwin glanced very briefly over his shoulder. "It is not much further, now. He will know we are here, by this point. Be ready."


    I narrowed my eyes, but said nothing; I ran a finger along the black leather of my book, and green flames danced along the edges of eagerly rustling pages.


    At last, however, we turned down yet another long hall of black marble and muted rugs and found a simple, unadorned door waiting for us. As we neared it and the unease of the manor increased, I finally shifted my gaze to the Otherworld, and I was startled by what I saw, even as I followed through the door behind Ashwin into a shockingly dark room, the soldiers directly behind me in a clustered group.


    The mansion was flooded with angry, agitated spirits.


    "Gallant," Ashwin called evenly, and I struggled to shift my vision out of the Otherworld; it was difficult to leave once entered, and it made seeing reality confusing and cluttered. "It is time."


    The young man at the far end of the room, bent over a table with his back to us, rose slowly. The irises of his eyes glowed scarlet as he grinned at us, and he leaned lazily against the table, as attractive and chiseled as rumor had lead many to believe.


    "Hello, Necromancer," he said, addressing me and ignoring the Inquisition. "I have so been dying to meet you."


    I looked between Gallant and Ashwin, and it dawned on me that my insane idea had actually been right.


    "Gods," the Captain whispered hoarsely. "It is another one."


    "Oh, for pity''s sake," I snapped, disappointment and irritation flooding my gut. "How long have you two morons been play-acting at Necromancer, Ashwin?"

 Chapter 03: An Ethereal POP

    My outburst was most certainly not what either of them had expected. By now, the soldiers that had accompanied us were cowering behind me in abject terror.


    "You mistake the position you''re in," Ashwin''s idiot son, Gallant, said with a stupid, insipid sneer. "I have surpassed your power."


    I wanted to bash my brains out on the wall, but alas, Queen Amaridae had thought ahead and nixed anything of the sort.


    "How long have you been pretending at this?" I demanded of Ashwin. "You supported this? You? Of all people?"


    "I," Ashwin said calmly- gravely, as if he were resigned. "My son is all I have left to me. I cannot deny his voracious appetite for blood, nor can I condemn him to a hanging."


    "You are a true paragon of fatherhood."


    "It matters little." Gallant pushed off the table he was leaning on, and I saw a shape sprawled across it beyond him- a body? "I know I have surpassed you. Abyssus has chosen me as his herald of the End Days, that which you failed so utterly to bring about. How disappointed in you he must be."


    I pinched the bridge of my nose and let out a slow breath.


    "I cannot help that my son is inherently better suited to the arts of death than you are, Necromancer," Ashwin said calmly. "I have accepted his true path. I will not stop his destiny."


    "His destiny is to be torn apart by spirits he barely understands, and then tortured by a god on whose toes he is violently stepping," I said flatly. "Abyssus does not create Necromancers, nor does he ''herald in the end days'', you idiotic mistakes of humanity."


    "Abyssus is the god of death," Gallant shot back. "You can''t confuse me, witch! I''m more learned in this art than you!"


    "After, what, a handful of years? You believe yourself to be more powerful than I? A true jest if ever I heard one. Amaridae is seeking court jesters, Ashwin, you should have told me your son had aspirations toward courtly amusements."


    "Do not insult my progeny," Ashwin snarled, finally showing some of the backbone I had come to expect of him in the last 5 years. "Neither you nor the Queen saw this coming! My son is blessed by the god of death that you once served!"


    There was a ringing in my ears as I slowly clapped my hands together, trying not to lose my patience.


    "If you had ever once paid even the slightest attention to your charge," I said, "you would know, Ashwin, that I have no patron. I serve no god. I do truly hope your son has not sworn himself to Abyssus without literally any study into his dominion, because while I understand that Abyssus is not a popular god along the Pale Coast, he does, in fact, have may tomes on him within the Queen''s own Library."


    "I know enough," Gallant said, smiling. "He came to me in a dream and told me what I needed to know. I looked up the ritual for swearing unto him my whole self, and then the books for the undead arts practically fell into my lap."


    "Oh, gods have mercy, he''s insane."


    "Nercomancer," the quaking Captain behind me said anxiously. "Please, Necromancer- can you not defeat him?"


    "I won''t have to," I said, throwing my hands up. "This tomfoolery is far more than the Queen every expected from you, Ashwin."


    For the first time, he looked somewhat unsettled by this sudden statement. "Expected...? What do you mean?"


    I rolled my eyes, a motion that involved more of an internal feeling and a telling movement of my head. "You think Her Majesty assigned the sparkling new toy to you because... what, you were there at the Battle of the Hordes? You think she put me in your command because of non-existent accolades? You think she granted you the honor of parading around the captured Necromancer because... I don''t know, you have a lot of money? You certainly did very little at the actual battle, Ashwin. Surely you don''t think she didn''t miss your cowering."


    Ashwin flushed, and Gallant turned crimson.


    "Do not speak to my father that way, witch," he snarled. "You know nothing of our plans."


    "Oh, certainly, or I''d have put a stop to this nonsense long ago. Imbeciles! The both of you! Frittering around with arcane arts you barely understand and swearing yourself to a god you think you saw in your dreams? Your son is a mad man, Ashwin."


    "It does not matter what you say, Necromancer." Ashwin drew himself up, proud beyond deserving. "The Queen made a mistake putting you in my control. I have my son to take control of Cordona, and I have you to die in his defense."


    "By all means," I droned. "Command me."


    "Kill the other soldiers."


    There were immediate cries of horror from behind me as they scrambled back, but I again rolled my non-existent eyes, glancing over my shoulder. "I''m not going to kill you," I snapped. "Stay close. This whole place is fit to blow from pent up arcane stupidity."The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    "I told you to kill them," Ashwin thundered. "I am your master!"


    "Wrong." I held up the manacle. "The Queen is my master. Any command you give me that directly conflicts with commands she has given are rendered useless. You are no longer in charge of me, Ashwin." I smiled at him, holding his gaze, hoping the meaning sunk in.


    The only one who could command me wasn''t here.


    Ashwin paled, but Gallant roared with laughter.


    "Fine," he said. "Have it your way. Deal with this, then!"


    He waved a hand, and I shifted my gaze, again, to the Otherworld.


    The room was over-crowded with spirits. They were agitated, like too much energy gathered in too small a space; this whole manor was truly about to explode. I had a good idea I knew what he''d been planning: he wanted an undead army at his fingertips, but instead of relying on bodies fit for reanimation, he had decided to rip souls straight out of the Rivers of the Otherworld.


    The Rivers that Abyssus personally oversaw and tended to, and considered the entire epitome and art of his existence.


    Right.


    A scarlet spirit was pulled forcefully through the veil, writhing in agony as it did so. Sparks and flames burst from its eyes- it was too far gone for any quick work of my abilities. Quelling such an agonized soul would require weeks of any good mage, perhaps an hour from me, and we had neither on hand.


    Not that fixing it was my current intention, it just... generally put me in the good graces of Abyssus to try.


    "I shall show you the reaches of my power," Gallant half-sang. "You brought the dead back- I create demons!"


    "Of course you do," I said. "Be my guest. I will not stop you."


    "Please stop him," one of the soldiers said shrilly.


    Gallant ignored my flippancy and, raising his hands high, charged the spirit with a beam of scarlet magic. It writhed again, twisting, until the seams of its being burst. It was a sad thing to watch happen, and bitter tasting, knowing this fool had likely done this to who knew how many souls before it. A complete and total waste... and likely, a furious amount of work for Abyssus to undo.


    The spirit was quickly deforming, its anguished moaning turning guttural, spitting, and violent. It thrashed against the floor, Gallant cackling like the predictable hack he was, and Ashwin looking on with grim pride, as if his son were winning a town pie-eating contest, and not summoning a demon he absolutely could not control.


    Particularly not in my presence.


    At last, it stood before us. A great beast with horns, a barrel of a chest, and cloven hooves, yet the head of a raven and massive black wings that nearly sent a chandelier crashing to the floor. Furious red eyes scanned the room, stopping momentarily with deep hunger on the men cowering behind me, and then freezing on locking onto my own gaze.


    "This," Gallant said, almost rapturous, "is my greatest creation. My most powerful summon... my most talented child. I do not summon demons- I create them, like an artist! An artist of the spirit world!"


    "It''s going to kill you if you do not send it back," I said flatly.


    "My son is no half-wit," Ashwin snapped. "You were caught, not he. You were slammed with the manacles, not he. You were given like a dog to the Commander of the Inquisition, who tracked you down like the weak, predictable animal you are!"


    "If you say it, then it must be so," I said blandly.


    "This is only the next of my greatest creations," Gallant said, mostly ignoring his father and I. He was walking around the demon, who was still staring at me, transfixed. "When I complete the ritual you so carelessly interrupted, I shall gain further power and create my army, at last!"


    The shape on the table, I thought, and turned my Otherworldly gaze on the figure. To my surprise, they were shrouded, as if trying to hide, which I doubted was a trick of Gallant''s.


    "Show me, then," I said. "Show me your power, Gallant. Slay me."


    "I shall not deny a pretty woman her request," he said, delighted, and pointed at me comically. "Go, my creation! Kill her!"


    The demon, predictably, did not move.


    "Why does it not move?" The Captain whispered hoarsely behind me.


    "Go!" Gallant screamed. He threw more crimson lightning at the demon, but now, it did not respond. It stared unblinkingly at me, desperation filling the black voids of its eyes.


    I flipped open my Necronomicon, the book I painstakingly made myself, with my own hands, over the course of 200 years.


    "Appoxxus fel Abyssidae," I intoned, the words lifting off the page to encircle the demon. "Rivesus Sel dominus."


    The demon breathed a long sigh... and exploded. I was ready for that one; a shield cropped up from the book, but Ashwin and Gallant were thrown back against the walls of the chamber, coughing and choking and bewildered. The table with the unknown figure on it was mostly unharmed, though it skidded back with a nasty grating sound.


    "What in the nine hells was that?!" Gallant snarled, when he could.


    "I sent the spirit back to the River of Souls."


    "Spirit?! It was a demon! I had utterly changed its entire being and made it my own!"


    "It was not a demon. It was a spirit that you tortured- all the thousands of spirits you''ve entombed within your wretched abode will never be true demons. If I do not end this stupidity now, then Abyssus will, and it will take out half the city- including you two stupid idiots- with it."


    "You lie!" Gallant screamed.


    "By all means, Gallant. Release the army you think you''re building. Make my job easier."


    Ashwin was struggling up, and I saw, through the fading smoke and dust, that he suddenly looked uncertain. Reality was catching up with him.


    "Gallant," he wheezed, wafting thick clouds away from his face as his reckless son strode toward me in fury. "Gallant, wait. Perhaps we should instead retreat-"


    "No," Gallant said, pompous and proud and unchecked to the last. "If it is an army she wishes to see, than I shall put to shame her little militia from five years past!"


    He waved his arms, and a horrific cacophony of moans began to rise up from the manor. I saw the writhing spirits, Gallant attempting to rip all several thousands of them, at once, from beyond the veil.


    "Riversus Sel dominus," I said again, and then, "Abyssus, take back your property."


    For a terrible moment, all the spirits were visible through the veil; the men behind me were screaming.


    Finally, at last, Gallant''s magic rebounded.


    There was a noise like a pop, but it was deformed, sounding as though it were echoing across dimensions. From within Gallant ripped out a green arc of lightning, which touched on every spirit he had forced into this realm. His screams were that of the damned, the spirits he had tortured and forced upon this world for his own stupid, twisted, perverted pride, and then, when all the spirits at last had been collected, the green lightning expanded out of him in a twisting, flashing portal. The arcing energy twisted, reality warped, and Gallant was forced through the portal into himself, ripping out of existence with yet another ethereal pop.


    And then it was done.

 Chapter 04: Some Stories Should Stay Shrouded

    In the face of such an immediate and shockingly disappointing outcome to what must have been several years of broken, uneducated planning, Lord Ashwin of Rivaine, High Commander of the Inquisition, sat down in the dust and stared.


    The silence was deafening.


    "Captain," I said finally, turning slightly in his direction. "Would you please arrest Lord Ashwin? I do not believe you''ll receive much in the way of resistance."


    "My son," Ashwin whispered, too stunned to hear me.


    The Captain stepped gingerly around me and began to recite the words required of us in the face of any criminal undergoing arrest, however little Ashwin was hearing them. He removed the magically inscribed ropes of binding and began to tie down the Commander, but it was almost funny how little it seemed to be needed. Ashwin barely reacted, and he had turned a nasty shade of gray. Even the Captain- a man whose name I couldn''t recall, and whose face I would likely forget in a very short while- seemed a little startled by the lack of response.


    "Captain," I said, when he had finished. "You will want to contact the rest of the Inquisition outside for proper transport."


    The Captain looked at me, blinking owlishly. The soldiers behind me looked almost as lost.


    "We will be escorting Lord Ashwin to the Queen''s Court," I said, as if the man''s world weren''t shattering all around him. "We need to begin procedure now, Captain. Doctor Hieronymous will doubtless be pleased to learn he is now the officer with the highest ranking here."


    "Ah. Right," he said, before beginning to issue orders to his small unit.


    We had expected an easy arrest with Ashwin on our side. Too bad he had been half the perpetrator.


    I began to step past Ashwin, intrigued by the far table in the corner that his son had been leaning over. The shadow remained drawn over it, trembling in its desire to remain hidden. Ashwin said nothing, but quiet tears streamed down his cheeks.


    Idiots reap what poisoned seeds they sow, I thought.


    The table was cracked from the explosion earlier, but surprisingly, it was none the worse for wear. I passed a hand over the shadow, green flames flickering against it in the Necromancer''s arcane version of a knock. There was a shockingly small squeal, and then the shadow dropped at once, the figure popping up in a terrified jerk and throwing herself back until she knocked her head against the wall.


    I stared, appalled.


    Gallant had been about to sacrifice a child.


    Too-large eyes, black as the deepest shadows, were set in a starved face that stared at me in abject terror. Her hands shook, and her hair was so matted and dirty that I couldn''t tell the original color of it. Filth obscured most of her features, and there were scars all up and down her arms.


    I felt a familiar sensation I didn''t like to admit to: Heartbreak. The girl had an aptitude for the arcane, but she had been horribly misused, likely spending her days scrounging for food and hiding from those who wished to use her in the Lower End.


    "Who are you?" Her voice cracked; her lips were too dry. "What are you going to do with me? The man, he was going to- he wanted to-"


    "He''s gone," I said, trying to regain control. I wanted to comfort her... but I was the Necromancer. I was the Woman Who Nearly Destroyed the World. I couldn''t comfort a newborn goat, let alone a beaten and starved child. "Abyssus took him."Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    She flinched. "I hoped he would. I knew he was mad."


    I arched an eyebrow. "You knew that Abyssus was mad?"


    "Yes. I could sense him. I tried to warn that man, came all the way from the- the Low End, because I felt him... breaking things. He was breaking the world. It was gonna be bad."


    I ran through a list of options in my head. Either Abyssus was her patron, which was a terrifying concept and might explain the beatings she''d been given if anyone else so much as guessed at the truth, or she was too highly attuned to the Otherworld and could see through the veil, like me, but without the training. Figuring out which could be difficult... but neither was going to win her any favors among the common people.


    Not after my blunders.


    "Come, child," I said softly, holding out a hand. "We will take you to Queen Amaridae."


    She flinched away from my hands, but then looked up into my eyes. For the first time, though it was no surprise to me, I found I couldn''t see any of the ghosts that haunted her, if indeed, any did.


    "You are the Necromancer," she said finally. Her black eyes slid past me for a moment. "Abyssus is grateful to you. He has peace now. I can hear him again- when I get too scared, it gets hard for me to listen."


    "He can keep his thanks to himself. I want none of his favors." I flexed a hand. "Come. The Queen will help you."


    She turned back to me. "How do you know? No one wishes to help me. When they realize what I am, they hurt me."


    I tried to consider how old she was. She was small, but that could be lack of nourishment. She spoke in a childlike manner, but that could be lack of education or social interaction. She could be six... or sixteen.


    "Everyone wants to kill me," the girl added in a small voice. "I knew the man wouldn''t listen, but I had to try, and he wanted to kill me for it."


    "Queen Amaridae won''t," I said firmly.


    "How do you know?"


    "She didn''t kill me, and I''m the Necromancer. I summon the dead as a hobby."


    She thought about that, and then, finally, she took my hand. "Abyssus says you are not one of his, but he likes you."


    I glanced sidelong at her. "Are you and Abyssus very close?"


    She gave me the shadow of a smile. "Oh, yes. He teaches me things in my dreams, and helps me not to be alone, since mama and papa died."


    I winced. Her patron is the god of the dead. This was shaping up to be a headache. "What did your mother and father die of?"


    She slipped her hand out of mine, fear replacing the brief shadow of happiness. "It wasn''t me."


    "I didn''t say that it was, child."


    "It was... plague."


    I thought for a moment. There had been a plague recently that had swept through one of the towns along the Pale Coast; Hiero had had a field day with that one, practically drooling at the mouth at so many corpses to study.


    And people thought I was the dangerous one.


    "How old are you, dearest?" I said softly, guiding her from the room and ignoring Ashwin entirely.


    She thought, puzzled. "I don''t know. I''ve been around a long time."


    My skin prickled with sudden intuition. There''s a moment before you realize that you''ve discovered more than you bargained for, where you feel as though you''re stepping up to the edge of a great, yawning precipice.


    This was that precipice.


    "What was the plague like, if you do not mind my asking?"


    "Mama and Papa turned such a horrible green color. There were boils that erupted, and frogs everywhere... the frogs were scared. We all were, but the frogs brought the plague, and it was such a horrible sickness... I couldn''t save them, but I could make it easier for them..."


    I stopped short. A plague involving frogs? I knew this plague. There had only been the one, because I''d helped put a stop to it... all of two centuries ago.


    "Child," I whispered, staring at her. "Did you make a deal with Abyssus?"


    "I just wanted to help my village," she said mournfully. "It wasn''t exactly what I asked for... but he answered. I can help people pass, so they don''t suffer anymore... if they let me. I can tell if they''re going to get better." She looked up at me. "People don''t like having me around. They think I kill people... but I don''t. I just... make the pain go away."


    My mind was reeling. Why now? Why all of a sudden? Why after all this time was my past coming to haunt me? These tales were meant to stay with the dead, these memories meant to remain buried.


    Just what was this little girl?


    Her head was tilted. "Are you all right, Lady Isolde?"


    I shouldn''t have been surprised that she knew my name. "Abyssus?"


    "Yes. He likes you. You play fair." She smiled. "My name is Tally. Can I stay with you?"


    "Of course," I said, before looking up to find that we had caught up with the Inquisition.


    A sense of foreboding settled over me. There were no coincidences when you were someone like me, in this world. Queen Amaridae would need to hear of this, indeed.

 Chapter 05: The New Commander

    "So... it would appear that I was right about the Commander, after all." Queen Amaridae let out a heavy breath, pinching the bridge of her nose. Her carefully constructed image had been allowed to collapse, and she was slouched in the enormous iron throne on which she sat. The dais was situated in the middle of an equally enormous receiving chamber, in which our voices now echoed, for it was entirely empty save for the two of us.


    "I would have been greatly surprised were you wrong," I said evenly. "You would not have expended so much effort had you the slightest doubt in your convictions."


    She snorted, a rather un-queenly sound, particularly for a woman in her forties. "After five years of nothing, I was beginning to wonder. Not a single soul had anything to give you. They were surprisingly adept at clearing away their evidence, and mucking up your abilities at summoning a viable soul."


    "I don''t believe he thought his son capable of making such a stupid mistake as targeting one of his friends," I said. "I genuinely don''t think he was capable of thinking ill of his son at all."


    "What do you make of the entire fiasco?"


    "It reeks of the gods and their meddling."


    She raised her eyes and stared at me, one eyebrow arching into her hairline. "You''re speaking of the girl."


    "That, and more."


    "I find that odd to hear such steadfastness coming from one so staunchly opposed to our gods."


    "If one is to shut the gods out of their life as entirely as I have, one must be willing to keep tabs on them and know the signs of their inevitable meddling. I have not survived two centuries by pretending the gods don''t exist, nor by ignoring them."


    "So what other signs are you seeing?"


    I rubbed my temples, before looking up to meet her eyes once more. Amaridae was perhaps one of two people, now, who could look me in the eyes, Tally being the other. I know she saw the spirits and ghosts of her past- I saw them, too, heard the whispering of her failures in my ears- but she was one of the only ones who stood ready to receive their damnations.


    And she had many.


    "The girl was magically there, at the hands of a criminal we have been investigating for years," I said bluntly. "She is, coincidentally, from the same time period as I am, yet I have never once crossed paths with her in nigh on two centuries. Her patron is Abyssus, the god on whose toes I must so often step, and she appears only after I have been so thoroughly shackled into workings of the mortal realm, where I cannot escape, nor run, nor avoid the will of the gods."


    The corner of her mouth twitched. "I believe I can see where you are going with this. There is, indeed, no such thing as coincidences in our lives."


    "What will you do with the girl?"


    Amaridae threw up her hands. "What can I do with her? When the Church of the Abyss finds out about her, they''ll be foaming at the mouth to get their hands on her. Tally must stay here, in the castle, with you, until we know more about her." She paused. "Do you have any concern for her mannerisms?"


    "No, none."


    She tapped her fingers on the table, her frown deepening. Forties or no, Amaridae was considered one of the most beautiful women in all of Iradion, a feat and a half, because many of the countries she communicated with tended to agree. Together as we were in the receiving room, there were significantly more lines in her tired face than the public might ever see... but the moment those doors opened, she''d be at her most perfect posture, her golden locks piled up with nary a free-flying hair out of place, sitting coiled atop her head beneath an enormous, elaborate crown, her face smoothed and prim and perfect.


    I had, ironically, become a place of comfort, because she could order me to say nothing of how she looked or spoke, and she knew that her commands were iron clad. I could not utter a word of anything she said in my confidence, so long as the manacles about my wrists remained in place, and so long as she wished it so.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    "I admit," Amaridae said, "I am confused. At two centuries, you speak and act like someone who has lived that long and experienced all of it, trials and tribulations and all. Tally... Tally speaks, looks, and acts like a child." She shook her head. "A two hundred year old child?"


    "Immortality is a fickle thing," I said. "For me, my body remains untouched by time, but my mind expands. Tally may be utterly frozen in time and space- it depends entirely on the full will of Abyssus, her patron, and frankly, we will not know what all of that entails until long after it has come to pass."


    Amaridae sighed. "We have too little information to do much more with Tally, other than to allow her to stay with us and to keep an eye on her."


    "As that is also her wish, that is not too difficult to arrange."


    "Now, we must speak on the subject of your new commanding officer."


    I blanched. "You''re keeping me with the Inquisition?"


    "Did you think I would do otherwise?" Amaridae raised an eyebrow. "Crime has plummeted, now that you''re working with the Inquisition. The ability to summon the dead and simply ask them ''Who killed you'' is perhaps one of the greatest boons this city has had in... a very long time."


    "Fabulous," I muttered. "And what power-obsessed nobleman will you place in charge of me, now, Your Majesty?"


    "I know when you''re especially angry with me," she said, chuckling. "I can feel it."


    "Good."


    Amaridae sighed, trying and almost failing to keep from rubbing her eyes. "I do not have the luxury of giving you easy assignments, Isolde. You are a tool that I can use, and regardless of what I know of you, I must use all of my tools, so long as I have them, for the good of my people."


    I crossed my arms and said nothing.


    "Very well." Amaridae sat up straight, threw her shoulders back, and suddenly resumed her Queenly facade. "I command the doors to be open."


    Her voice carried in a way it hadn''t before, and the massive dark-wood doors set into the black-stone arch that rose hundreds of feet above us in an imposing display of power shook and groaned as they were pushed wide. Standing beyond was a single figure, waiting on the threshold, flanked by the royal guards.


    The new master for the curbed witch.


    "Enter, Captain Glaive."


    Glaive, I thought idly. I should like to guess at which weapon he has mastered above all others.


    There was the sound of heavy, armored footfalls as the man named Glaive stepped into the great hall. No other sound was heard as he continued to step forward, down the length of the room, ignoring the stretching awkwardness between all three of us. No other sound could be heard until, at last, he came to stand before Queen Amaridae, dropping into a neat, heavy bow that pointedly ignoring my presence.


    He had thick, dirty blonde locks that fell in a messy, sweat-soaked curtain past his neck. A metal helmet was tucked under one arm, and he wore heavy mail. A massive glaive- his namesake- was belted to his back, two battles axes strapped to his waist, and a massive tower shield sat underneath the polearm. I could see a quiver of training crossbow bolts strapped, forgotten, to one calf.


    He''s talented, I thought, looking him up and down. The art of combat is his passion, if he is trained in all of that and then looking to add the crossbow to his list of accomplishments.


    "I have had my eye on the Captain for a while, now," Amaridae said. "Isolde. I wish to know your opinion of him, and to see if you agree with my decision."


    Glaive had the decency to look confused. It was clear, suddenly, that he had no idea why he was there with us, though he spared me no look at all, his eyes trained entirely on Amaridae''s face. She gestured in my direction, and finally, he looked my way, freezing when his eyes locked on mine.


    He was young, though not much younger than Amaridae. Perhaps his early thirties.


    Spirits crowded around him, the ghosts of his past, the tales of his failures. A woman with a head that wobbled on the base of her neck sobbed as she drifted between us, crying over a failure to save her family from murderous bandits; a man scorched nearly to dust moaned about a burning mill that Glaive had been unable to save from brigands.


    A mysterious spirit of a small girl floated ever in the background, her pale, ghostly eyes on mine... but she said nothing. Her tales, it seemed, were kept close to her, for now.


    Glaive''s failures were few and far between compared to most, but it didn''t stop the ones he did have from revealing themselves to me... and in my eyes, to him. He flinched as each spirit passed and presented the bits and pieces of his past, seen to me in the space between the mortal plane and the non-reality of the Otherworld.


    "So far," I said, examining the pain in his eyes and looking for any sort of misdirection, "he is clear." The taste of his failures was filled with bitter regret; there were no hauntings here in which grieved souls desperately tried to reveal the hidden truth of a heavy-handed knight. His failures were personal, and he regretted each and every one.


    "Excellent," Amaridae said lightly, tilting her head toward him. "Captain. Congratulations are in order. You are now the Commander of the Inquisition, and by extension, my Guardian over the Necromancer."

 Chapter 06: A New Assignment

    It had been a while since I had endured so awkward a journey as the one following Commander Glaive''s reassignment.


    I rode beside him at the front of our travel party, which consisted of myself, him, two Captains and their platoons, and- unfortunately- Doctor Hieronymous. A sullen silence had fallen over the Inquisition, uneasy and anxious; their leader, the man who had led them to such an enormous victory against the incredibly evil Necromancer (i.e., me), had not only betrayed them, but had sought to turn his own son into the very thing he had marched against.


    My heart wept for them... a little, anyway.


    Glaive held his head high. He was less messy than he had been on our first meeting; my guess was that the Queen''s summons had been wholly unexpected. Now, he road at the head of our collective, atop a massive black charger that answered his every whim, every command, every touch. His expression was hard and grim... but Ashwin had hidden his pride well, too, along with his stupidity.


    "I must confess," Hiero said, his voice carrying over the dismal silence of the march. "I am confused as to why the Queen requested I journey with you to such a lowly town as our destination."


    "What, pray tell, are you unable to grasp about it?" I said.


    "I am the Court Physician and Doctor," he said, scoffing. "Surely an investigation of this level merits the accompaniment of a lesser student or assistant than I? Any of my students could likely accomplish whatever mission awaits us at any of these backwaters."


    "The Queen personally commanded your attendance," Glaive said sharply, without moving his head. "It is not your place to question a direct order from your Queen. If she says you''re needed at the town of Clearwater, then you are needed. End of story."


    I pursed my lips to keep from smiling, an action that came so rarely anymore as it was. I wasn''t the only one, either; the petulant drop in Hiero''s offended shoulders was so pronounced, several of the closest marching soldiers all had to quickly look away, trying to hide their own humor.


    The second boon of such a sharp reprimand was that Hiero, sniffing disdainfully under his mask, decided to fall back through the ranks. It was meant as an affront to Glaive, but in reality, it was just a relief, even if Glaive didn''t know it yet.


    "Necromancer."


    I tilted my head in his direction. "Yes?"


    "I should like to go over the exact order of operations I can expect to go through once we reach our destination."


    I paused. "You may ask either of your Captains, Commander. I am not your only source of information."


    He turned icy, cold gray eyes turned to look into the green emerald flames of mine. He winced, but did not look away. "I asked you, Lady Isolde."


    The use of my name surprised me- years of being called "Necromancer" by everyone save for the Queen had made it sound almost foreign. "I suppose so." I collected myself; Glaive was proving to be an unexpected player in the game, now that he had full control of the playing field. "When we arrive at the location, we will immediately be brought to the scene of the crime which we are investigating, which will have been magically preserved by the good Doctor''s apprentices riding ahead of us. Hiero will take a moment to examine any bodies at the scene, report to us what he has uncovered, and then he will turn the body over to me. Assuming all is well, I shall summon the spirit of the deceased, we shall question it, it shall turn over to us the sordid details of its demise, and we shall make an arrest."


    Glaive considered this. "How reliable is the responses of the spirits you summon?"


    "A fair question, though harder to answer than you suspect. The quality of the spirit will rely on a number of things, and therefore, the quality of the responses we receive will be almost as variable."


    "I require examples, please. I should like to have an idea on what I''m walking into; Her Majesty did not give me much time to prepare or study any given materials. I am walking into this nearly blind."This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    He was putting that mildly- Queen Amaridae had followed up her congratulations with a request for us to examine a nearby hamlet, from which she had received very troubling tidings. We hadn''t even had a chance to properly celebrate Commander Glaive''s assignment. There were murmurings among those within the Inquisition that she had only assigned him because she was short on time.


    I knew better. The Queen did not make uneducated decisions. She only pretended to.


    "That is a fair request," I said evenly. "In one particular case, I arrived with Ashwin and the Inquisition at the scene of a particularly heinous crime in a small hamlet called ''Bywood''. The people were terrified; the utterly mangled body of one of their own had been found at the heart of the town."


    "What was the first thing you did, upon arrival?"


    "As has been done now, the Doctor''s apprentices had gone ahead to magically preserve the body and the scene of the murder. When we arrived, no one was allowed to touch the scene save for the Doctor and anyone he directly requested, which generally, is and was no one. Ashwin and I moved to question the witnesses and the head of the town, which was just a spokesperson for the local Lord."


    Glaive raised a single eyebrow, glancing over at me. "You questioned them?"


    "Ashwin tended to use me to try to intimidate people into answering his questions quickly. I am not exactly easy to be around, and the average person generally has a desire to exit any proximity to me as quickly as possible." I shrugged. "Comes with the territory, I''m afraid. I summon the dead for a living; that''s unsettling to any sane person."


    I saw the corner of his mouth twitch, but there was no other outward response. "What happened next?"


    "We gleaned very little from the man. Anyone who knew the youth said only that they were reckless and enjoyed spending time in the woods. Many believed it to be an animal that had shredded the body so badly, but there were rumors in the area among neighboring towns of a werewolf on the loose."


    "A werewolf? There hasn''t been one of those in the area in decades."


    "That does not generally stop generational fears," I warned him. "You will find a near continuous fear of myths, legends, and ancient history in any of the small, outer towns, in particular."


    "I see."


    "We did quickly agree that the other youths her age were hiding something, but then the good Doctor had much to inform us of. According to him, the body was indeed torn apart, but it was impossible that it could be done by an animal, supernatural or otherwise. It was done entirely by a man."


    "And then you summoned the spirit?"


    "I tried to." I shifted. "The spirit was in hysterics. She did not yet understand that she was dead, but the sight of her body pushed her over the edge of understanding. She responded only in cryptic remarks, saying ''he who walks is the demon dog'' and ''he called me his heart''."


    Glaive''s frown deepened. "That''s not as straightforward as I was hoping it would be."


    "It rarely is. The case with Ashwin was unique. Ashwin''s son had gotten sloppy with his murders; up until that point, we couldn''t locate enough of the bodies for me to be able to summon a fully viable spirit. Sir Mallory had been discarded in a rushed manner, likely because Lord Gallant had been about to be discovered."


    "Is time a better variable for interviewing spirits?"


    "Not exactly. The longer the body decays, the more likely the spirit is going to be ready to depart to the abyss, and as that time approaches, they begin letting go of their memories in their previous life. There are always exceptions," I added, "because no one spirit is similar to another, and there can be angry spirits that refuse to move on well after the earth has reclaimed their body... but for the most part, this rule is reliable."


    "Right... so, what did you do about that girl?"


    "Ashwin and I were able to deduce that the murderer was her father. She was not his only victim; I was actually able to discover a particularly angry spirit from some years past who was able to tell me, in full, the atrocities committed against her by the man. His daughter had come across him attempting to murder another youth, and in her desire to stop him, he murdered her, then threatened the other youths that if they spoke against him, he would murder them, too."


    Glaive grew silent for a very long time following this. When he spoke at last, his voice was quiet. "You must see the worst of humanity, working for the Inquisition."


    I stared straight ahead. "It is my lot. I am the ''Woman Who Nearly Destroyed the World'', Commander. There are none who pity me."


    He said nothing.


    "Tell me, Commander, what do you know of our next destination?"


    "Likely, I know as much as you. We are being called to a hysterical plea for help regarding some cryptic information about a murderer."


    "Yes, but-"


    All at once, as we rounded a bend in the road, the smell hit us. First the Commander and myself, and both our horses snorted in response to it- even mine, undead as she was, for no living horse would carry me. The Captains behind us immediately gagged, and there was a general clamor of disgust and alarm as the smell washed over the ranks.


    "Gods," Glaive grunted, trying to control his expression as he hunched over his charger. "What is that?"


    "I know that smell anywhere," I said. "It is rarely so thick as this... but that is the smell of death and decay. A lot of it. I believe we are about to reach our destination, Commander, and things are going to be a lot worse than we envisioned."

 Chapter 07: Deep Ones

    Our destination came much too quickly.


    The town was small, like so many I had visited before. Death came easily to those further from the major cities, but never so thickly- nor with as much intent- as this.


    "I think I begin to understand the Queen''s anxiety," Glaive said, staring straight ahead.


    Behind us, our Inquisition Company had halted in pure silence. Hardly anyone noticed as the Doctor strode up toward the front of the command, and he stopped to take it all in himself, surprisingly silent. All that could be heard was the sound of thousands of flies, doing what flies did best.


    The road led directly through the village, but we could not follow it. Smack at the entrance, filling up the entire space between two buildings, was an enormous pile of bodies. It was, by the look of things, the entire village''s population. Men, women, children- they were, all of them, piled into a heap of death, decay, rot, and festering mortality.


    Behind us, someone wretched.


    "Talk to me, Isolde," Glaive said, not looking away. "What could cause this?"


    "The Necromancer is not the first on the scene," Heiro said immediately. He was stiff and cold, his mask slipping to reveal the cold, calculating individual beneath it. "I am the first, and I will give you more answers than you can receive from any magical charlatan."


    Glaive''s eyes slid to mine, and I gave a small shrug as Hiero road forward.


    "There are many in this world," I said, once the Doctor was out of hearing range, "that do not like feeling ''lesser'' than anyone. For all the appearance of ease and comfort the Doctor portrays, he is uncomfortable that I can perform feats he will never be able to figure out. There are limits to his vast intelligence, and that angers and frightens him."


    "I imagine he would not like to hear so," Glaive said, turning back to watch.


    Behind us, someone gagged audibly.


    "My suggestion, Commander," I said, "would be to give orders to the Captains to set up camp, and to create a perimeter surrounding the town. We do not want outsiders wandering into such a scene as this- and the Doctor will not forgive you for such a crime, either."


    Glaive startled some, and then turned quickly to speak to the two Captains that had traveled with us. Relief was evident in their voices as they turned and began shouting orders to the rest of the Company, which began to fall into a familiar routine.


    "Thank you," Glaive said quickly, to my surprise. "I have never led something so serious as this. What is he doing?"


    I paused at the abrupt change of topic, before answering. "The Doctor will examine the bodies closely using his scientific techniques. In a... normal... case, this could take upwards an hour, but that is usually when there is one or two bodies. In this situation, I cannot say when he will be done."


    "Would it not be better for you to just... do your work?" He asked, frowning.


    "Normally, I might agree," I said mildly. "As I said earlier, however, there are times when the spirit I speak with is too degraded for me to-"


    My intuition suddenly sparked, and my head snapped around. Something pulled at my senses, and I immediately slid off the seat of my horse.


    "What is it?" Glaive was quick to do the same, falling into place beside me.


    "The dead call."


    I followed the pull away from the main body of the Inquisition, further into the woods. The smell lessened somewhat, but I could see a trail here and there of blood, thick and coagulated, in the grass. Silently, Glaive followed behind me, hand on the hilt of his sword. I wondered idly if he were preparing to fight me, or if he were simply readying himself for whatever we might find.


    We did not go far from the village before we discovered a cave set into the side of a rocky slope. Dark and cool, I flipped open the Necronomicon, the pages flying to the spell I wished for; a soft murmuring of words, and a deep, peridot green light filled the entrance. Immediately, the light glinted off of more bones than I had seen in one place in... a very, very long time.


    "Does every spell you cast result in some sort of green color?" Glaive asked quietly.


    "Yes." I turned to look at him. "I have seen this before, Commander."


    "I had a strong suspicion that you were going to say as much."You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    "This is the work of a cult I thought I had wiped out almost two centuries ago."


    Glaive turned to meet my gaze in small understanding. "The girl."


    "She is not connected, but I do find it very interesting that so far, two pieces of my past have surfaced up out of nothing and nowhere in so short a time."


    "What cult was it?"


    "If it is indeed the very same one I dealt with previously, it was a cult that worshipped a particular creature. These villagers likely found some piece of history and began worshipping the being, too, without fully understanding what it was." I stooped down to pick up a few of the bones; etched into the side of each and every piece was a symbol like a diamond with a circle in it. Long, curling lines stretched outward from the diamond. "This symbol is that of the Deep Ones."


    "The... Deep Ones?"


    "We''ll know if the cult has resurfaced if we go further into the cave." I began to step forward to lead, but Glaive suddenly stuck a hand out in front of me, expression grim.


    "Give me a light," he said.


    "I can lead perfectly well, Commander. I do not plan to lose you in the darkness."


    "That''s not the point. You''re too valuable to be sending head first into a cave of cultists."


    I paused. "As you wish. Lift up your sword." With another wave, the pages of the Necronomicon flashed past, flickered to a stop, and with an incantation, I ran a hand down the length of the steel blade. A moment later, green light burst out from it.


    "I suppose that works as a torch," he said, a small smile flickering into view before sliding into a somber grimace.


    He stepped in, and I followed behind him.


    The number of bones only grew as we traveled deeper into the cave.


    "Should we have brought a squad with us?" Glaive asked after a few minutes of carefully picking our way through the graveyard of death and perfectly picked clean skeletons.


    "No. It is very likely that we will find no one living here. I simply want to see... the Inner Sanctum."


    Glaive did not ask what that was. Indeed, he had no reason to, for just a few minutes later, we were in it, and I was proven quite right.


    The ritual had already been completed. Torches lined the walls and flickered an ominous black flame, which gave off an unnatural light impossible to describe. Everything shifted as we looked at it, as in a hallucination, and images of past and present danced into being around us.


    More bones littered the floor leading up to a raised dais, atop which was lain a single body. The blood had already been spilled, coating not only the altar, but the stone all around it and the body itself.


    I strode forward into the chamber, and the torches all immediately danced, the black flames struggling as my magic touched the foul magic of a false god. Green danced at the centers of the flames, eating away at the corruption.


    "Should we wait for Hiero?" Glaive asked, following behind me and raising his sword high, trying to take in the room.


    "No." I held my hands out over the girl''s body; her blonde hair was matted with old blood, but the rest of her was perfectly in tact. "She does not want him. She asked for me."


    I felt Glaive''s eyes on my back... until the body of the girl jerked, suddenly, and there was a wet, gurgling gasp from her throat. Her eyes blew open, lit from within by green flames, and the black filth of the ritual sprang back from the dais.


    I curled my fingers. "Come," I said softly in the language of the dead, and the girl turned unseeing eyes toward me. "Come, and tell me all."


    She sat up, and I heard Glaive swear behind me.


    "I am dead," she intoned, staring directly at me. "I am dead, and sweet O''mineh opens its doors, for the Old One Hutur is rising once again."


    "Who the fuck is Hutur?" Glaive hissed. "Is she alive?"


    "She just said she was dead," I said, trying to suppress amusement.


    "I thought you just summoned spirits?"


    "Do you truly believe I was tried and imprisoned because I attacked the Cordona with ghosts, Commander?"


    I could practically hear his jaw working as he considered this. "I... have not read of this happening since then."


    "The conditions were not right, and there was no reason to. Her spirit has been destroyed- we speak now with the remnants, an echo, the body." I turned back to the girl. "Who killed you?"


    "The village," she whispered. "We sought to appease Hutur. He is one of the Deep Ones, deep beneath the earth, deep beneath all. He slept. We thought he would come to destroy the gods, to bring an end to death and sickness and suffering."


    "I suppose he did not."


    "No. We created a Priest, a true Priest... and he sacrificed us all."


    "Imagine that," I said darkly. "You thought to control the gods and their will, to put an end to suffering, and you went about it by... killing and sacrificing people."


    Her mouth twisted. "You would not understand our pain and suffering. No one understands what we have lost in this town, the losses we have faced in our little ones. You outsiders care naught for us-"


    "No, I, a 200 year old Necromancer, certainly would not understand death," I said, furious. "You cultists all work alike. Unhappy with the workings of the world, you seek to try to bend to your will something even less in your favor, and then you are so utterly surprised when it bites the hand that fed it. Unbelievable. And now you have created a real Priest, which I worked so damned hard to eliminate just two centuries ago into this world. This has to be one gigantic joke being played on me."


    I flapped my hand, and the green flames went out in the girl, her body collapsing with a disgusting thud against the dried blood of the altar.


    "Who is Hutur?" Glaive asked, watching me carefully.


    "Hutur is a creature that believes itself a god," I snapped, beginning to stride out of the room. "He represents every horrible thing in this world that you can imagine. Longer ago than any living creature can ever remember, these Deep Ones were locked away in the darkest elemental places of the world. Hutur is the first of four that, if they return, will bring about the death of the gods, destroy all living and unliving, and eradicate all life as we know it."


    Glaive kept pace with me as we left the oppressive altar behind, the black torches giving up at last.


    "Well," he said after a moment. "I suppose we know now why things from your past are resurfacing."


    "Yes," I snarled. "I just want to know who sold these stupid fools into believing in Hutur and resurrecting a real Priest, because they most certainly did not do it on their own, and I''m going to need a spirit for that."