It’s a proper sendoff for these poor fools, to be burned on a pyre.
I know that if we had met while they were living, most of them wouldn’t have even hesitated to kill me, and yet…
I also feel a strange sort of sadness at their passing.
Marcello puffs out a breath, it clouds around his face as the night is lit by the draugrs. “If the necromancer hadn’t figured out that there was some disturbance before, he definitely will now.”
“Good,” I say starting down the road. “Let’s get his finger then.”
Chapter Twenty
A Price to Be Paid
FromtheviewIhad of the mountains in my vision, I’m guessing that the hut the necromancer was in, is to the north of the village. As we go, we come across a few straggling draugr, but they are nothing that my dragons and I cannot easily deal with.
Marcello for his part, does a good job of staying out of the way as we bash and crush and behead the few remaining draugr.
Finally, we make it to a hut that gives me an odd sense of familiarity. I glance up at the mountains, their peaks are reflected in starlight while their bases are engulfed in shadows, but there is no mistaking the view from my vision. We are here.
There’s a shuffle to my right and I suddenly remember that in my vision a draugr came around the corner. I swing my ax out, knocking him off balance by hitting him in the ribs and then Drekki pounces on him.
“This hut should be it,” I say over the snarls.
Marcello, glances at me. “And you gathered that much from a brief vision? This whole village looks the same, I don’t know how you’re able to tell just what building the man you’re looking for is in.”
“Save your admiration for if I’m actually correct,” I say as I step forward. I shoulder open the door to find myself in a small smoky room with animal remains littering the floor. They crunch under my boots as I stride in.
The necromancer is gripping the woman from the table by her shoulders, shaking her. “No, come back to me! Don’t just stare at me blankly like this.”
He pauses as we walk in, his nose curling into a sneer. “Who are you? The living are not permitted here.”
“Neither are the dead, we made certain of that,” I reply. I’m certain I would sound far more threatening if Marcello wasn’t jumping on his toes, holding his cloak up as he tries not to trail through the bones.
The man drops the woman who collapses listlessly to the side. While her eyes glow, her face is expressionless. She looks almost sad, if a draugr is capable of feeling such an emotion.
“You have committed unholy crimes against this village,” I state coldly.
“They committed crimes against me first!” the man cries. “This woman here is my sister. She was killed by their chief who had assured me that he wasviolentlyin love with her. Well, he got the violent part right. It is only right that they aid me in my quest to bring her back. It is through them that I have worked to perfect my art.
“The art of raising the dead?” Marcello asks, wrinkling his nose.
“There were innocents here, those that did not deserve to die.” My stomach tosses as I think of that poor little girl. How many other horrid deeds did we fail to notice as we swept through the town? What unraised bodies were hidden in the shadows like the girl’s mother was?
“They were complicit in her death. They will be complicit in her rebirth.”
Marcello’s eyes dart to the girl on the table. “She does not look like she wants to be raised.”
“I tried to bring back some of her soul,” he says raising her hand. It drops to the ground. “But it appears that I only made her sad.”
“You’re a madman,” I reply, stepping forward, “And a monster, but fortunately I do not need your cooperation. I only need your finger.”
Marcello winces as he glances at me. “You’re going to get that, right? You don’t want me to…”
I huff a breath. “No, you don’t have to.” I step forward, brandishing my ax, but then a thought strikes me. What if the finger only has power while the necromancer is still alive?
I pause, thinking it over. It’s a possibility of course, anything is a possibility in this land of chaos magic. The power to raise the dead should not even exist and I do not wish to upset the fragile balance that made it, so the dead of this village walked. Even if I would dearly like to make this necromancer pay for his crimes.
I grit my teeth, lifting my arm that has my shield on it.
