“Takeyour father, for example,” Berith said, his bone-armored robes flowing over theheads of his thralls.“When he travelled to this tomb before your birth, heslayed the sorceress, as was his command.But he was arrogant.Foolish.Hethought he could excavate this ancient empire without the aid of specialists.”His laugh came with a sneer.“I know my brother—he wanted the sole claim on allits discoveries.These necromancers, these....”He glanced up at the hangingcoffins.“These grisly demons were, unfortunately, quite our superior when itcame to the technologies of magic.Namely, the process of extracting the soul.”
Zariacame out to his side, shoulder to shoulder.
“He blunderedinto a trap,” the Bone Hunter said.“Because he was impatient, he had his soulsucked from his body, like the tens of thousands before him.But, of course, hewas lucky, because the device that captured him was specially designed by thesorceress herself.It was to be used as an emergency reservoir,in case her life was ever threatened.It gave him control of her forces.Hebecame the new necromancer, in her stead.Now it was his turn to reign over thecity of the dead, buried beneath the scoured land.”
Isaacstepped forward.“How does this connect with the mnemonic—”
“Donot interrupt me, boy!”
Heflinched.
“Hisbody was destroyed,” his uncle said.“He told me so, himself, when the Dietmanaged to attune to the energy of his soul.We discussed his condition.Heneeded a new body to escape, and he would not allow us to enter this tombwithout assurances that we would provide him with one.His stolen bones wouldkill us if we tried.”He shook his head.“He wanted his freedom again.Hewanted safety from those who would kill him, just to steal the bounty forthemselves.It was not an unreasonable concern, in those days.The Diet wasstill very young.It had many schemers within its ranks.But, of course, in theend, we could not sacrifice just any person for his livelihood.”
Hisglowing eyes centered on Isaac.
“Why isthat, Isaac?Why can a soul not be implanted into any body we choose?”
Heswallowed.“Core rejection.”
“Corerejection,” Berith said.“The soul and vessel must be related.They must bevery close, in both body and lineage.Like, say, father and son.”
Thedust seemed to swirl around him.
The airreeked of blood.
“Yourfather was trained in two disciplines, wasn’t he?Elements and anti-necrotics.He was famous for it, in fact.”Berith worked his jaw, his necrotic scarstwisting in the light.“Of course, it was only natural that his son should betrained the same way as him.His body had the right heritage.He had thepotential.Once he had been trained properly, he would be the spitting image ofhis father.No one would bat an eye.”
Isaac’smind raced and raced.
“Didyou never think it odd,” Berith said, “that the Diet would send onlyyouto rescue your father?”He gestured down at Isaac, his hand barely visiblebeneath the cuff of his robe.“You, a single journeyman, a fledgling boy,pitted against the might of an ancient necromancer.It’s absurd!The Archonscould’ve sent dozens of sorcerers.They could have beseeched the aid of thedeathless wizards, the masters who have ascended beyond the flesh.For Oerin’ssake, the kingdoms of the Diet could drown this tomb in an ocean of soldiers!”
Isaaclooked away.
“But,of course, they sent only you.”His uncle grimaced.“The young child.Theorphaned boy.The son who never knew his father.”
Hisuncle stopped.His shadow spread across the hanging standard.
“I didnot raise a child,” Berith said.“I raised a vessel.A vessel for your father.”
Somewheredeep below, by the feet of the giant corpse, the earth rumbled and shook.Thousands of voices screamed in agony.
“Thatwas the deal we struck.”His uncle paced across the platform, casting a blackshadow.The bank of devices leaked a finger of purple fog.“He would allow usaccess to this ancient tomb, once his son had been trained in the ways ofsorcery.This could not be faked.The transmutation training is a physical markon your form.The knowledge of your studies has changed the structure of yourbrain.Only a body similar to the original would allow his soul to survive.”
Hisuncle glanced downwards, in the direction where the obelisk would lie beneaththe floor.
Wherehis father was.
“Inheritance,”Berith said.“What a chain it is.”
Zariastepped to the side.Half of the thralls followed her.She raised a hand, andthey lifted their arms in response, cocking a salvo of ice and fire.
She wastesting their reaction.
Isaacwanted to slap her.
“Youshould have seen his desperation,” Berith said, returning his gaze.“He beggedme to save him.He wouldn’t hear of allowing the Diet access to the tomb.Hedidn’t trust the Archons—for good reason—and, of course, what little knowledgehe had gleaned from the necromancers told him this was the only solution.Itwas your life or his.And, of course, he was sorry—blubberingly sorry—but hehad chosen himself.”
Berithsnorted.
