said
Tam.
"Well… They
might have really hated those people."
Tam didn't
speak, just waited for her to continue.
She took a deep
breath, not wanting to put her next thoughts into words. Some
things were so vile, so wrong , that they simply shouldn't
exist. She didn't want to believe that it was happening again.
"Or," she said,
"there could be a necromancer."
He opened his
mouth as if he wanted to argue, to say that animating the dead
wasn't real, that it was something from stories used to frighten
children. But he slowly closed his mouth. He nodded. "Cut up the
bodies so that no one can use them." He gestured at the graves.
"Before they buried their friends…"
She nodded.
"Probably."
They stared at
each other for a long moment. Then he said, "Don't die. That's not
a chore I want."
She gave him a
crooked grin. "Hey, you're the one who brought the axe."
A grin quirked
his lips, then vanished. "Why would anyone raise the dead?"
She shrugged.
"It gives you a slave, ready to carry out your every command. A
pungent slave, to be sure, and one that slowly falls apart, but a
slave without conscience or remorse, who never needs to rest, who
can be controlled remotely. If you had an army of corpses, you
could conquer a kingdom."
Tam grimaced.
"Neris preserve us!"
"Don't worry,"
she said. "Raising a corpse takes time, and you can't do it
remotely. By the time you finished reanimating an army, the first
ones would be crumbling to dust."
"Maybe it's not
a necromancer," he said, not sounding convinced. "Maybe they just
really didn’t like those guys."
"Maybe," she
said. "We can hope."
They continued
on their way, leaving the stench of death and the buzzing of flies
behind them. The sun was warm, the sky was a cheerful blue, but
Tira couldn't entirely shake the chill she felt. There was one
final thing about necromancers that she hadn't told Tam. Bone magic
was powerful magic. Powerful, and costly. Mages summoned magic in
different ways. Some used silver, some used psychic energy. Most
could draw small amounts of magic from the air around them, or from
ley lines in the earth. Not enough to animate a corpse, but
some.
A few mages,
the worst ones, could extract magical energy from blood, or from
the extinguishing of a life. Especially a human life. Someone who
was reanimating corpses might have need of prisoners who could be
sacrificed as a source of fuel.
But it wasn't
safe or practical to take people from the streets of your own town.
It didn't take people long to notice something like that. A prudent
mage, if he had the coin, might hire a few rough men and send them
far afield. To the other side of a big river, perhaps, with
instructions to gather victims from isolated places. Like Raven
Crossing.
She glanced
back at the intersection, wondering if she'd seen the last of that
kind of horror. Thoughts of the undead were pushed from her mind by
the sight of a plume of dust on the road behind. She dismounted,
strung her bow, and remounted.
Whatever was
raising the dust, it was moving fast. The open grasslands offered
no kind of cover, so Tira shrugged and kept riding. Eventually she
could make out a column of riders on the road behind, catching up
quickly.
There were ten
horsemen in total, all of them in gleaming matched breastplates,
their horses decked out in green barding. Tira ran through her
memories of the past several weeks. She'd crossed any number of
borders, moving through kingdoms and empires and duchies, paying
little attention to who ruled where. She thought green might be the
colors of the local king, but she wasn't sure.
The lead rider,
his breastplate marked with three horizontal stripes to denote
rank, lifted a fist as the riders came close. The horses pulled up
in a billowing cloud of dust and the riders spread out, surrounding
Tira and her companions.
Tira folded her
hands over the pommel of her saddle, moving slowly and being
careful not to touch her sword or bow. There was a rider on either
side of
Tam.
"Well… They
might have really hated those people."
Tam didn't
speak, just waited for her to continue.
She took a deep
breath, not wanting to put her next thoughts into words. Some
things were so vile, so wrong , that they simply shouldn't
exist. She didn't want to believe that it was happening again.
"Or," she said,
"there could be a necromancer."
He opened his
mouth as if he wanted to argue, to say that animating the dead
wasn't real, that it was something from stories used to frighten
children. But he slowly closed his mouth. He nodded. "Cut up the
bodies so that no one can use them." He gestured at the graves.
"Before they buried their friends…"
She nodded.
"Probably."
They stared at
each other for a long moment. Then he said, "Don't die. That's not
a chore I want."
She gave him a
crooked grin. "Hey, you're the one who brought the axe."
A grin quirked
his lips, then vanished. "Why would anyone raise the dead?"
She shrugged.
"It gives you a slave, ready to carry out your every command. A
pungent slave, to be sure, and one that slowly falls apart, but a
slave without conscience or remorse, who never needs to rest, who
can be controlled remotely. If you had an army of corpses, you
could conquer a kingdom."
Tam grimaced.
"Neris preserve us!"
"Don't worry,"
she said. "Raising a corpse takes time, and you can't do it
remotely. By the time you finished reanimating an army, the first
ones would be crumbling to dust."
"Maybe it's not
a necromancer," he said, not sounding convinced. "Maybe they just
really didn’t like those guys."
"Maybe," she
said. "We can hope."
They continued
on their way, leaving the stench of death and the buzzing of flies
behind them. The sun was warm, the sky was a cheerful blue, but
Tira couldn't entirely shake the chill she felt. There was one
final thing about necromancers that she hadn't told Tam. Bone magic
was powerful magic. Powerful, and costly. Mages summoned magic in
different ways. Some used silver, some used psychic energy. Most
could draw small amounts of magic from the air around them, or from
ley lines in the earth. Not enough to animate a corpse, but
some.
A few mages,
the worst ones, could extract magical energy from blood, or from
the extinguishing of a life. Especially a human life. Someone who
was reanimating corpses might have need of prisoners who could be
sacrificed as a source of fuel.
But it wasn't
safe or practical to take people from the streets of your own town.
It didn't take people long to notice something like that. A prudent
mage, if he had the coin, might hire a few rough men and send them
far afield. To the other side of a big river, perhaps, with
instructions to gather victims from isolated places. Like Raven
Crossing.
She glanced
back at the intersection, wondering if she'd seen the last of that
kind of horror. Thoughts of the undead were pushed from her mind by
the sight of a plume of dust on the road behind. She dismounted,
strung her bow, and remounted.
Whatever was
raising the dust, it was moving fast. The open grasslands offered
no kind of cover, so Tira shrugged and kept riding. Eventually she
could make out a column of riders on the road behind, catching up
quickly.
There were ten
horsemen in total, all of them in gleaming matched breastplates,
their horses decked out in green barding. Tira ran through her
memories of the past several weeks. She'd crossed any number of
borders, moving through kingdoms and empires and duchies, paying
little attention to who ruled where. She thought green might be the
colors of the local king, but she wasn't sure.
The lead rider,
his breastplate marked with three horizontal stripes to denote
rank, lifted a fist as the riders came close. The horses pulled up
in a billowing cloud of dust and the riders spread out, surrounding
Tira and her companions.
Tira folded her
hands over the pommel of her saddle, moving slowly and being
careful not to touch her sword or bow. There was a rider on either
side of
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