mistake of thinking your life isn't in danger once you step
foot outside. Got it?"
"Yeah." I pulled the coat off the table,
slipped it on, and was startled by how cool it felt against my
skin. Duck winked.
"Spent a small fortune to get that imbued.
Consider it my bet that you'll live long enough to return it to
me."
"You've got it." I turned to Leo. "You coming
along?"
"Always." He polished off whatever he'd been
drinking, and headed to the door.
I looked to my immediate left, as
Duck suggested, and laughed a bit at the sign hanging from the wall
of his establishment.
The inn was aptly
named The Dead Man's
Tale .
The streets closely resembled snake skin, or
burnt snake skin if I was being specific. The charred earth formed
a natural pavement, and the buildings seemed to be formed from the
same substance at a glance.
I caught sight of a skeletal laborer dipping
one of these flat stones into a limy, acidic canal, one that
branched into numerous smaller veins across the side roads. He
proceeded to slap it onto the side of the building in front of him,
and I realized that he was using it to sculpt the stone, melting
portions to shape it.
Zombies, golems, more skeletons, and undead
animals moved through Krisenburg as naturally as the barbarians did
on the surface. Those without the ability to speak often had
companions that could; others used a frantic sign language I'd
never seen.
Death mimicked life in a very peculiar
way.
This town, which was more of a city now that I
saw it, was dark, crooked, dirty, dangerous... and filled with more
life in a busy afternoon than I'd seen in my entire twenty six
years on this earth. The thought saddened me, but I maintained my
smile, because I felt a sense of admiration I didn't know
existed.
Were necromancers really so different from the
creatures we raised?
"In a way..." I said slowly, as Leo and I
walked down the street. "I think I'm starting to get why we do what
we do."
"Do what?"
"The whole necromancy thing." I waved my hand
at the subject. "It's... in a really, seriously disturbing way,
kind of beautiful."
Leo looked as though I'd just swallowed an
insect. A broad grin spread across his face.
"I thought this would've scared
you."
"It does," I admitted. "It
terrifies me. I think, if it's possible, a part of me fainted the
minute I walked downstairs. But..."
"But?" asked Leo.
"I have to adapt to the Moor of Souls if I
want to live long enough to find a way out of it. Diana said this
to me not that long ago: I'm not afraid of dead things, just things
that look dead."
"There's a difference?"
I motioned the world in front of us, at risen
bodies pushing carts, sweeping, and shopping.
"Everything in Nethermount was so
regimented. Necromancers kept their servants on a leash. If they
weren't being used, then they just sat around on display. If these
people had some skin on them, then they'd be just like you and me."
I reconsidered what I'd said. "They already are just like you and
me."
Leo slapped me on the back. I tripped
forward.
"You're weird, Marvin."
I made a face.
"But I like weird."
It didn't take long for us to spot the Harpy
Den. As the name suggested, it held a statue of two harpies, the
monstrous, bird-women locked in combat. One sneered upon her
opponent, pinning her to the blackened platform. Curiously, the
second wasn't frightened, nor was she enraged. The sculptor, for
whatever reason, had chosen to portray an expression that went
beyond the obvious; serene, even... merciful.
All my life, I'd thought that nothing good
could come of the cold earth, and to an extent, I was correct.
There were many terrible things about the Moor of Souls, but in
between its seeming cruelty, is archaic kill-or-be-killed nature,
there were snippets of wonder.
I felt embarrassed at my own short
sightedness, being more like most necromancers than I'd realized.
Undead, to us, were tools, slaves, unfeeling and disposable... and
I'd bought into it without question.
Leo grabbed
foot outside. Got it?"
"Yeah." I pulled the coat off the table,
slipped it on, and was startled by how cool it felt against my
skin. Duck winked.
"Spent a small fortune to get that imbued.
Consider it my bet that you'll live long enough to return it to
me."
"You've got it." I turned to Leo. "You coming
along?"
"Always." He polished off whatever he'd been
drinking, and headed to the door.
I looked to my immediate left, as
Duck suggested, and laughed a bit at the sign hanging from the wall
of his establishment.
The inn was aptly
named The Dead Man's
Tale .
The streets closely resembled snake skin, or
burnt snake skin if I was being specific. The charred earth formed
a natural pavement, and the buildings seemed to be formed from the
same substance at a glance.
I caught sight of a skeletal laborer dipping
one of these flat stones into a limy, acidic canal, one that
branched into numerous smaller veins across the side roads. He
proceeded to slap it onto the side of the building in front of him,
and I realized that he was using it to sculpt the stone, melting
portions to shape it.
Zombies, golems, more skeletons, and undead
animals moved through Krisenburg as naturally as the barbarians did
on the surface. Those without the ability to speak often had
companions that could; others used a frantic sign language I'd
never seen.
Death mimicked life in a very peculiar
way.
This town, which was more of a city now that I
saw it, was dark, crooked, dirty, dangerous... and filled with more
life in a busy afternoon than I'd seen in my entire twenty six
years on this earth. The thought saddened me, but I maintained my
smile, because I felt a sense of admiration I didn't know
existed.
Were necromancers really so different from the
creatures we raised?
"In a way..." I said slowly, as Leo and I
walked down the street. "I think I'm starting to get why we do what
we do."
"Do what?"
"The whole necromancy thing." I waved my hand
at the subject. "It's... in a really, seriously disturbing way,
kind of beautiful."
Leo looked as though I'd just swallowed an
insect. A broad grin spread across his face.
"I thought this would've scared
you."
"It does," I admitted. "It
terrifies me. I think, if it's possible, a part of me fainted the
minute I walked downstairs. But..."
"But?" asked Leo.
"I have to adapt to the Moor of Souls if I
want to live long enough to find a way out of it. Diana said this
to me not that long ago: I'm not afraid of dead things, just things
that look dead."
"There's a difference?"
I motioned the world in front of us, at risen
bodies pushing carts, sweeping, and shopping.
"Everything in Nethermount was so
regimented. Necromancers kept their servants on a leash. If they
weren't being used, then they just sat around on display. If these
people had some skin on them, then they'd be just like you and me."
I reconsidered what I'd said. "They already are just like you and
me."
Leo slapped me on the back. I tripped
forward.
"You're weird, Marvin."
I made a face.
"But I like weird."
It didn't take long for us to spot the Harpy
Den. As the name suggested, it held a statue of two harpies, the
monstrous, bird-women locked in combat. One sneered upon her
opponent, pinning her to the blackened platform. Curiously, the
second wasn't frightened, nor was she enraged. The sculptor, for
whatever reason, had chosen to portray an expression that went
beyond the obvious; serene, even... merciful.
All my life, I'd thought that nothing good
could come of the cold earth, and to an extent, I was correct.
There were many terrible things about the Moor of Souls, but in
between its seeming cruelty, is archaic kill-or-be-killed nature,
there were snippets of wonder.
I felt embarrassed at my own short
sightedness, being more like most necromancers than I'd realized.
Undead, to us, were tools, slaves, unfeeling and disposable... and
I'd bought into it without question.
Leo grabbed
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