If I were him, I probably wouldn't jeopardize my future.
At least he didn't make me wait in his office.
"In short… Do you know that a leader of the Circle is doomed if the ritual is broken?"
Larkes gave me an affirmative nod.
"Did they explain why?"
His answer was no.
" Any necromancer can raise a mindless corpse without help from other mages. But in order to restore and retain control over the consciousness of a deceased, I need a Circle of necromancers. If I worked alone, I would have to absorb the entire awakened consciousness, and could become helpless against my creation - the alien mind could oust me. The Circle assures that the raised personality will have no chance to take possession of the caster. Unfortunately, during Finkaun's ritual we managed to restore the alien psyche. And now it's here - in my mind. He does not want to die, like any living being. There is no other way to get rid of him except to provide him with a suitable alternative. I need a corpse, relatively fresh and intact, to complete the ritual. The body should belong to a dark".
I was sure I had gotten in such a mess because the bones we worked with belonged to an uninitiated dark. He clung to life too hard for an ordinary man.
" Are you asking me to help you make a zombie with the Source?!"
" We'll be able to move him only into the corpse of a dark - due to the particular configuration of the vital meridians of the dark. You'll decide what to do with him later. Or soon you'll have to take actions against me."
And I surely had an active Source.
Larkes fixed his wistful gaze on the wall behind my back, then reached for the phone. I hardly believed my ears: in a familiar, velvety, slightly bored voice the senior coordinator requested a fresh dark corpse for the forbidden ritual. It was the biggest thing that one dark could do for another. I was touched.
In just two hours, a truck with a special team of "cleaners" picked me up at the main entrance of NZAMIPS headquarters. We drove for two days with one overnight stop in an unpopulated area. We ate dry army rations while in motion. Our destination was a tiny military settlement, squeezed from all sides by lifeless hills. It was either an ancient quarry or a place for the supernatural's outburst. The settlement was covered with protective perimeters of such power that even a golem would be vaporized if it attempted to break through. Two rickety barns disguised an entrance to the underground complex – the most secure of all the magic labs I had ever seen. I was afraid to ask what the army mages did there.
We were met by a platoon of combat mages. For me alone! Not bad!
A corpse with some burns waited for me in a spacious hall with silver panels. I carefully palpated the body - previously frozen flesh was not suitable for my purposes. After the corpse, I examined steel chains, stationary accumulators, and protective and scattering signs to ensure there wouldn't be any surprises. All was ready for the ritual.
I took off everything that could hinder the flow of energy - belt, wrist chronometer, boots - and turned to the magicians, who were attentively watching my actions.
"Before you release me from here, tur n off the lights for a moment. If nothing strange happens, you may let me go." If the ritual failed, Rustle would help me die decently.
What I conceived was simple: I would have to convince the alien mind to move into a new dwelling, chained to the floor. I invited my "roommate" to check the high quality of the corpse. But the raised consciousness didn't feel the need to move out. Rustle saved me by sending such abominable images that I nearly jumped out of my skin, and then a blissful feeling of spaciousness came in.
The new zombie that I created suddenly discovered that his body was experiencing pain from burns and started writhing and rattling with his chains. Rustle disappeared, being very pleased with himself. Crowds of magicians and healers bustled around me, and I looked at
At least he didn't make me wait in his office.
"In short… Do you know that a leader of the Circle is doomed if the ritual is broken?"
Larkes gave me an affirmative nod.
"Did they explain why?"
His answer was no.
" Any necromancer can raise a mindless corpse without help from other mages. But in order to restore and retain control over the consciousness of a deceased, I need a Circle of necromancers. If I worked alone, I would have to absorb the entire awakened consciousness, and could become helpless against my creation - the alien mind could oust me. The Circle assures that the raised personality will have no chance to take possession of the caster. Unfortunately, during Finkaun's ritual we managed to restore the alien psyche. And now it's here - in my mind. He does not want to die, like any living being. There is no other way to get rid of him except to provide him with a suitable alternative. I need a corpse, relatively fresh and intact, to complete the ritual. The body should belong to a dark".
I was sure I had gotten in such a mess because the bones we worked with belonged to an uninitiated dark. He clung to life too hard for an ordinary man.
" Are you asking me to help you make a zombie with the Source?!"
" We'll be able to move him only into the corpse of a dark - due to the particular configuration of the vital meridians of the dark. You'll decide what to do with him later. Or soon you'll have to take actions against me."
And I surely had an active Source.
Larkes fixed his wistful gaze on the wall behind my back, then reached for the phone. I hardly believed my ears: in a familiar, velvety, slightly bored voice the senior coordinator requested a fresh dark corpse for the forbidden ritual. It was the biggest thing that one dark could do for another. I was touched.
In just two hours, a truck with a special team of "cleaners" picked me up at the main entrance of NZAMIPS headquarters. We drove for two days with one overnight stop in an unpopulated area. We ate dry army rations while in motion. Our destination was a tiny military settlement, squeezed from all sides by lifeless hills. It was either an ancient quarry or a place for the supernatural's outburst. The settlement was covered with protective perimeters of such power that even a golem would be vaporized if it attempted to break through. Two rickety barns disguised an entrance to the underground complex – the most secure of all the magic labs I had ever seen. I was afraid to ask what the army mages did there.
We were met by a platoon of combat mages. For me alone! Not bad!
A corpse with some burns waited for me in a spacious hall with silver panels. I carefully palpated the body - previously frozen flesh was not suitable for my purposes. After the corpse, I examined steel chains, stationary accumulators, and protective and scattering signs to ensure there wouldn't be any surprises. All was ready for the ritual.
I took off everything that could hinder the flow of energy - belt, wrist chronometer, boots - and turned to the magicians, who were attentively watching my actions.
"Before you release me from here, tur n off the lights for a moment. If nothing strange happens, you may let me go." If the ritual failed, Rustle would help me die decently.
What I conceived was simple: I would have to convince the alien mind to move into a new dwelling, chained to the floor. I invited my "roommate" to check the high quality of the corpse. But the raised consciousness didn't feel the need to move out. Rustle saved me by sending such abominable images that I nearly jumped out of my skin, and then a blissful feeling of spaciousness came in.
The new zombie that I created suddenly discovered that his body was experiencing pain from burns and started writhing and rattling with his chains. Rustle disappeared, being very pleased with himself. Crowds of magicians and healers bustled around me, and I looked at
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