Necromancer Awakening (32 page)

He heard a noise at the entrance to the room they shared and assumed his friend had come to join him as usual.

“Hey Tor,” Nicolas said without looking up.

“Siek Lamil wishes to see you now,” Jurn said.

“Tell him I’m on my way.”

Jurn turned Nicolas’s plate over and the fish, guts and all, landed in Nicolas’s lap.

Nicolas tried to stand but ropes of energy bound him to his seat.

“Be thankful the siek warned me not to harm you.”

Jurn left, and as he disappeared into the temple the ropes of energy dissolved and Nicolas was free again.

Nicolas picked pieces of fish off his robes, telling himself Jurn wouldn’t be so lucky next time. He took one of the less disgusting pieces and swallowed it. He’d need more fuel for two extra hours of training today.

Toridyn’s head peeked around the corner into the room. “
Cheerful
make a special trip to lighten your mood?” Toridyn said.

Nicolas had taken to calling Jurn “Cheerful” in the preceding weeks, and Toridyn was making a habit out of copying his speech patterns.

“Yeah, right,” Nicolas said. “I better not keep the siek waiting.”

Toridyn grabbed a towel from beside his bed and began brushing Nicolas off.

“This should mask some of the smell,” Toridyn said. “Just remember Cheerful’s still out there somewhere. Try not to piss on him.”

Nicolas was shocked for a moment until he realized what Toridyn was trying to say.

“Piss him
off
, Tor. Try not to
piss
him off
.”

Toridyn made a strange face. “But that makes no sense.”

Nicolas smiled as he stood up and made his way out across the temple and into the training dome.

The familiar tendrils of energy entered his mind when he stepped into the training dome. He looked around for Siek Lamil and saw him standing at the front of the room, waving him over.

Nicolas had learned to see subtle differences in cichlos facial expressions. But, as always, Siek Lamil was inscrutable.

“Another day passes, and yet you remain ignorant,” Lamil said.

“I’m sorry,” Nicolas said. “I’m trying—”

Lamil lifted his hand. “I accuse you of nothing. Once more you see blame where it does not exist. A necromancer must learn the proper purpose of blame, for blame can be a destructive force as much as a positive one.”

“But our job is judging people, ain’t it? How can we do that if we can’t blame them for the things they’ve done?”

Lamil rotated his eyes independently of one another in a gesture Nicolas had learned to interpret as deep consideration. After a brief pause, his eyes came back to rest on Nicolas.

“What is the Prime Duty of a necromancer?” Lamil said.

“Not this again.”

“What is the Prime Duty of a necromancer?”

Nicolas knew the siek wouldn’t stop until he received an answer.

“The Prime Duty of a necromancer,” Nicolas said, “is to raise the dead and help them achieve purification.”

“Correct,” Lamil said. “Tell me where the Prime Duty instructs us to place blame on our penitents.”

Nicolas squinted. He was sure the siek was leading him into another verbal trap. “Nowhere?”

“Is that a question or a statement?”

“Statement.”

“Correct again,” Lamil said. He paced for a moment, keeping one eye on Nicolas and another on one of the training formations. “Blame should never be wielded by a necromancer in the course of purification. It does no good to place blame on someone for the evil they commit.”

“That doesn’t make sense. We’re supposed to make them understand the consequences of the bad things they did when they were alive, right? Don’t we have to hold them responsible?”

“What is the Prime Duty of a necromancer?”

“Oh my god! What…the frick…was wrong with my question?”

“What is the Prime Duty of a necromancer?” The siek never raised his voice or sounded flustered.

Nicolas took a moment to control his frustration. He’d get nowhere fighting Siek Lamil’s process. “The Prime Duty of a necromancer is to raise the dead and help them achieve purification.”

“Correct. Now tell me where in the Prime Duty it instructs us to place blame.”

“Nowhere, Siek.”

“Correct again. When one person blames another, the accused raises a wall around their mind, rendering it impossible for them to be objective. They cannot step outside of themselves and gain a different perspective, because they have walled themselves up within their own justifications. To be purified the dead must accuse themselves. The necromancer is their guide, not their judge. We lead the dead on a journey through their own lives until they judge themselves. It is the only path to true purification.”

He’d heard this before, in different words, but something struck a chord this time. Whenever it happened to him, because of an overdue assignment, or forgetting something Kait had told him, he’d usually spend more time trying to explain himself than understanding what he did wrong.

“Now,” Lamil said. “Tell me the First Law of Necromancy.”

Nicolas tried to recall the words Lamil taught him a few days earlier.

“Death is a…wait,” Nicolas said, bringing his fist up to his forehead. When the words came to him he snapped his finger. “Death is an extension of life.”

“Correct,” Lamil said. “The First Law is why I brought you here early.” Lamil reached into his voluminous shirt and took out a sphere that looked like a smaller version of an orb of power. When he placed it on the ground between them Nicolas felt a trickle of necropotency.

“Touch the power within the siborum,” Lamil said. “Draw it in.”

These siborum things must be the cause of the power surge he felt every time he got close to a cichlos necromancer.

He reached out with his mind and sensed a small source of power. It was faint, but he knew he could touch it. He focused and allowed the power to fill his energy well.

“Very good,” Lamil said. “You have transferred power from the siborum to your mind. Intuitively, I might add. Now, release the power and repeat.”

Again Nicolas reached out and touched the small power source. It was easier this time.

“Continue,” Lamil said. “But this time, I want you to turn away from the siborum.”

Nicolas turned and drew the power in once more. If the siek was expecting it to be more difficult because he was facing away from it, he must be surprised.

“Continue,” Lamil said.

Nicolas repeated the process several more times, and each time it took less effort. Confident in his newfound ability, he emptied himself of power and reached out to touch the siborum one last time.

Nothing happened.

He must be getting overconfident. He calmed himself and reached out once more, prepared to feel the flow of power enter his well.

Nothing happened again.

“Turn around,” Lamil said.

Nicolas turned and saw Lamil holding the siborum in his hands. Goose bumps prickled at Nicolas’s mind, telling him the siek was manipulating necropotency. The siborum started glowing, and after a moment it popped and separated into two hemispheres.

“What is the First Law of Necromancy?” Lamil asked.

“Death is an extension of Life.”

“Correct,” Lamil said. “Behold Life.” He took the top half of the siborum away and showed Nicolas the bottom.

Resting within the hemisphere was a small flower, dried and shriveled, as if it had been dead for some time.

“How is that possible,” Nicolas asked.

“What is the First Law of Necromancy?”

“Death is an extension of Life.”

“Correct,” Lamil said. “Now tell me, where in the First Law does it refer to sentient life?”

“If what you’re saying is true, then—”

“Tell me where in the First Law it refers to sentient life?”

Nicolas blinked as the implication of what he had learned settled in. “Nowhere, Siek.”

“Correct.” Lamil looked Nicolas up and down with both eyes. “The Second Law of Necromancy teaches us that death surrounds everything. Repeat. What is the Second Law of Necromancy?”

Nicolas repeated the words.

“This flower once possessed life, and as such left a small footprint on this world as it passed through death’s door.”

Nicolas remembered something. “I’ve seen cichlos necromancers take sibor…rums…to the priest at the orb of power. The orb recharged them.”

“Siborum. And you are partially correct. You assume the Orb of Zubuxo filled the siborum with energy. But you overlook something.”

Nicolas replayed the orb ritual from this morning in his mind. “The temple priest.”

Lamil nodded.

“He’s the man behind the curtain, isn’t he? He takes the siborum behind the orb and puts a flower in it while the ritual is going on?”

“Flowers,” Lamil said. “Vegetables. Any object that once possessed non-sentient life is a candidate. The remains of a small creature could be used, but…that is distasteful. In practice, a functional siborum is filled with vegetation. This one was merely for demonstration.”

“Why can’t we just carry some with us, in our robes or something, or focus on the weeds growing all over? Why the fancy ball?”

Lamil harrumphed. “You’ve seen the physical reality so you discount the mystical.”

“What do you mean?”

“The footprint of non-sentient life clings tenuously to the fabric of this plane. The ritual imbues the siborum with a protective ward that contains the fragile life force indefinitely. Outside of a siborum the life force simply disperses into the world around us. Death surrounds everything.”

“Death surrounds everything. I understand. I think I’d like to learn this ritual, Siek.”

Something subtle changed in Lamil’s eyes, and Nicolas realized the siek was smiling.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

Nicolas had become adept at drawing power from the smallest plants and leaves, and the siek remarked about how fast he was learning. But whatever force had pulled him here was still a mystery.

His friendship with Toridyn was a welcome surprise. He found a kindred spirit in the friendly cichlos, and found him to be the only other person he could relate to.

During a recent summoning he saw cichlos traveling between two worlds, using an orb of power. The orb looked a lot like the Orb of Zubuxo, and he couldn’t help wondering if an orb was the way home. If it worked for the cichlos, why not him?

The siek said his knowledge of necromancy was growing at an astonishing rate. Small failures no longer frustrated him because he knew each success would lead to a way home.

Again, Lamil summoned Nicolas to the training dome before his usual meditation hour, and again those fingers of energy entered his mind.

“Another day passes, and your ignorance remains,” Lamil said.

“Yes it does, Siek. Maybe I’ll get some wisdom today. You never know.”

He had come to understand that Lamil wasn’t berating him…Lamil was grading him, as any teacher would grade a student, and it was a simple pass-fail system.

“Your wisdom grows every day. You simply have a long path ahead of you.” Lamil looked away and mumbled, “Not too long, I hope.”

“Why the rush?”

Lamil flinched. “You heard me?”

“You’re standing right next to me. You feelin’ ok?”

Lamil harrumphed and straightened his shoulders. “We are often wise in some ways and ignorant in others. That is at the core of what it means to be a…person.”

If Nicolas didn’t know any better, he would say the siek was about to call him a cichlos.

“You have mastered the first symbol of power,” Lamil said. “You are quite adept at raising the dead now. It is time to focus on the second symbol of power.”

“The arrow.”

“The
guide
. Interesting that you see it as a weapon.”

“Any tool can be a weapon. I once saw my dad scare off a grizzly bear with a plumb bob. It’s not about what it
is.
It’s how you
use
it.”

Lamil took a siborum out of his robes and called one of the other students over. “Hide it somewhere in the dome, then have the formations dismissed.”

“Yes, Siek,” the student said and hurried off.

“When you were dying in the lake,” Lamil said, “you channeled power into the guide symbol and cast it outward. You acted correctly. But I’m not sure you understand the implications of your success.”

“It knew what I needed and it led me there.”

“It knew no such thing.”

“Say what?”

“The guide symbol serves two purposes and two purposes only. The first you discovered accidentally—it will guide you to the nearest source of power beyond your reach. Necromancers without siborum use this technique to travel over land. It allows you to move from one source of power to another.”

“So in the lake, it was telling me where I’d find power.”

“Correct,” Lamil said. He retrieved another siborum from his robes and handed it to Nicolas. “Use the same process you used in the lake. I want you to locate the nearest source of energy.”

Nicolas focused his necropotency and the arrow grew large in the corner of his eye, like a spec that he could never quite look at. It turned, and he felt drawn toward the opposite side of the dome. Not a physical tugging, but a mental certainty that he should go in that direction. He started walking and Siek Lamil followed.