The People I Hate The Most
The sound of lightning cracks between the desperate trots of a horse, spurred on by a man broken as his wife weeps for their fallen child. Their baby girl who once brought life into their world, struck by disease now lay dead in her mother’s arms. Though overwhelmed by despair the two harbor the slightest glimmer of hope, for they know the one man that can bring her back to them. Utter fools, these are the people I hate the most.
Boom! Boom! Boom! Loud knocking on the door. I can hear it echoing through the cave. Mind you this is the middle of the night, and I’m a person, so I tend to sleep occasionally. There’s a good reason I chose to live secluded in the mountains near the edge of the world. I get a nice view of the ocean, I don’t have to pay taxes, and people don’t bother me.
Boom! Boom! Boom! I tried to just ignore it, but the knocking keeps getting louder. At this rate they’ll probably break down my door and guess who will have to fix it. Yep, that’s right, the guy that doesn’t pay taxes. So, I might as well make my way through the dark crypt that is my home full of old coffins that line the wall to answer the urgent summonings of the front door, like a civilized person. But as I undo the latch and creek open the wooden planks, I’m suddenly met with a swift kick to my decrepit old body, that looks more like a skeleton then some skeletons.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” the husband stampers as he retrieves his foot from my abdomen. “We didn’t hear anything so I just…well I was going to…”
“You were going to kick down my door!?” I detest.
The mother hurries to me, her lifeless daughter in arms. “Mr. necromancer sir, I assure this is an urgent matter! I implore you, please hear what we have to say. You see…”
“Your daughter’s dead and you want me to bring her back,” I finish her statement.
They both drop to their knees as the husband begins to beg. “Please sir, we beg of you. Name your price and you shall have it.”
There are three kinds of people in this world. Those who pass me by without even a glance, (I like those people.) Those who call me evil and wish to destroy me, (I put their corpses to work.) And my least favorite of all, those who wish me to bring the dead back to life. Truly pathetic.
“Go see a priest or something, I don’t revive people,” I answer. It’s the truth.
“Her illness was too great," the husband answers with grief. "The priest couldn't save her. No priest in Zanbrio can bring the dead back to life." He looks to me desperately insist, “But you, you’re a necromancer are you not, raising the dead is what you do. I even heard that, unlike other dark sorcerers, you found a way to raise them permanently.”
“Who told you that?!” I bite at him angerly, eyes burning with necrotic green flames before taking a moment to regain my composure. “There is a strong difference between reviving some one and raising them. If I raise your daughter, she will only have a proxy soul bound to my will. In other words, she’d just be my thrall.”
The wife looks to her husband then back at me. “Fine, she can be enslaved to you or whatever, just bring her back.”
“I’m telling you it’s not what you think,” I try and reason.
“Just do it!” the husband demands grabbing hold of my tattered robe before quickly releasing. Parents who travel all this way will do anything to save their children. I’ve seen it time and time again, and it always ends the same.
I give a long sigh before conceding to their request, and invite them in. The husband carries the child now, his wife clinging to his arm as I make my way to a small room with a carved-out table along the wall of the cave and get to work.
Poring a clear liquid into a cup before adding the brown powder. The two watch in agonizing fear as I use a small flame to heat and stir. Finishing with a cube of sugar and some extra stirs as I sip a fresh cup of coffee then lead them to the next room across the way.
In it lay a wide circular table lit by seven candles and outlined in various glyphs. Purple night shade and bone powder garnish the edges as a black skull lay at the head. Most of it is just decoration but who can really tell what isn’t.
“Put her here,” I motion to the table as the man complies then steps back to the edge of the room. “Hear me souls of the dead,” I call out taking another sip of coffee before I continue. “By the blessing of her…persistent parents, I beckon thee. Let this child walk amongst the living once more! Now rise from the dead!”
A moment passes then two. Suddenly the small child once dead opens her misty eyes once more as she stands to await her master’s command.
Her parents beaming with joy call to her in tears. “Noel, Noel my baby! Come here.” But she is unresponsive, staring at me as I look to her parents in wait.
“Noel,” the mother tries once more. “Noel sweetie is everything alright? Come here baby. Come to mommy.”
After a moment of silence, I twirl my figure as the corpse once known as Noel turns to face her parents but remains staring blankly at the wall.
“What’s going on?” the father questions. “What’s wrong with her?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” I answer. “This is your daughter. And as I told you before, her body is imbued with a proxy soul that belongs to me.”
“No this isn’t right,” the father panics. “This isn’t right. Fix her. Give us back Noel.”
He rushes towards me as his daughter, now my undead servant, blocks his path. Standing distraught before the one he once called daughter the man falls to his knees in defeat.
I say to him, “If you’d like, I could remove the soul, you can take her body, and burry her properly.”
The man covers his face as he weep’s allowed, his wife comforts him then looks to me and nods. The two hug their daughter as I command her to hug them back one last time before releasing the spell and her body goes limp. They leave my cave, the sky now silent, the horses' trot now slow.
I finish my cup of coffee as I watch them leave. I hate those kinds of people. They demand the sun by asking for the moon. A cold decaying hand reaches my shoulder as I feel the head of a woman rest on it to console me. A beautiful long-haired liar that once tried to kill me in her former life, accompanied by two other undead servants, once adventurous men who deemed me evil, now my loyal guardians. I don’t like people, I don’t trust people, but I can’t escape the fact that I too am a person.
As morning comes, I sip my second cup of coffee whilst slowly rocking in an old wooden chair just at the mouth of the cave reading from a small leather journal. One of my servants had it on him when he attacked me, figured I might as well learn a little more about my employ’s past life. His Name was Theseus Rainer, not quite the poet except for when it came to his erotic exploits at the various inns, but what can you expect from the journal of a dead man?
Alas, my peaceful morning was brought to an end by the distant screams of young kid running frantically for his life as a ravenous bear attempts to devour him. I glance at this for a moment before returning to my read.
What? I don’t care if he dies. If anything, it gives me another servant, that is if the bear doesn’t tear him up too bad. Eh whatever, it is what it is. I’ll just keep reading my book amongst the screams of terror… that seemingly get louder. Wow that kid is really loud. Would it be wrong to ask him to be quiet? I look up from my read to scold him when I see the reason for his growing volume. He’s running this way.
“Are you insane don’t bring that thing here,” I yell.
“Help me, I don’t want to die!” he yells back.
Fast the boy is, to be out running a wild bear, uphill even. But I can tell by the trailing tears in his eyes as he cries for help, he’s no fighter. Short black hair with a commoner’s tunic, leather gloves, and no sheath for his dagger. And a dagger? That’s no hunting weapon. Before I know it, he’s barreling past me into the cave.
Just as he enters though a large dead man whose size rivals that of the bear’s walks out of the kitchen wearing an apron, a colorful oven mitt, and a little chef’s hat. Before I can even get up from my seat the boy comes bolting right back out again as a gust of wind shoves me aside and rattles my patio. The boy doesn’t get very far before stumbling back to me at the sight of the bear now growling at the both of us.
“Ugh fine,” I say before raising my fingers in a snap. Suddenly an arrow flies from the entrance of the cave and in one shot pierces the beast’s skull as the mighty bear falls dead on my lawn.
The boy looks back to see the zombie of the elf who’s journal I had been reading. Proud pointy ears with a nice smooth face (even after death) and wafty blond hair that he flips to the side. I don’t even command him to do that it’s like an odd twitch or something. In his hands he holds a strong, yet elegant wooden bow most likely custom made by an elven crafts man. A truly talented archer in a previous life.
“Thank you so much,” the boy addresses him. “I’m sorry I thought you were a monster at first. Thank you for saving my life and…”
“That’s enough kid, time to run on home,” I interrupt to shoe him away.
“Oh sir, my apologies but I wasn’t really talking to you,” he remarks.
“What!?” I ask baffled at his statement. “Then who were you thanking?”
“Well, him of course,” he says pointing to my archer who flips his hair again.
“Him!?” I begin. “He’s my servant; he does what I tell him to do. I commanded him to shoot that bear thus saving your…” I pause realizing the argument isn’t really worth it. “You know what, I don’t even know why I care. Beat it kid or the next arrow goes to you.”
“I don’t know,” the boy explains. “Kind of seems wrong taking credit for something someone else did, even if they are your servant.”
I grab the kid by his tunic and toss him off the porch. “Go home kid and don’t’ let me catch you here again!” I say to him before slamming the door shut. Taking a deep breath to regain myself before returning to my boring life of a splendid breakfast and silence.
Adventures are all the same no matter the age, they go where they’re not wanted, attack the one’s that just want to be left alone, and rob them of everything they worked so hard for. Always taking, just to better themselves.
A few days later, I took the liberty of being a lawless outcast with no obligations, to sleep in for a change. Theseus was out hunting, and my cook Barron Patel skipped making breakfast and began prepping for brunch. He also keeps the place looking clean, well clean for damp and decrepit cave full of dead bodies.
Feeling the blanket tuck, I creek my eyes to see the smiling face of my third undead servant, Lucaris Bisclarvette, Lulu for short. Who knew the warm smile of a chilling corpse could brighten this old man's day? I don’t really have a title for her, but she’s nice to have around, helping me in my late years.
But just as everything was how I had made it, a knocking at the door is all that’s needed to ruin my delusional peace. I send Lulu to deal with it as she’s more prone to scare whoever it is away. As she opens the door with a fake smile that seems so convicting, her cold dead eyes fix themselves on the boy from earlier carrying with him a finely crafted quiver. Before he can even offer his gift though, he runs away screaming in terror from the zombie he hasn’t met yet.
Well now that that's dealt with, I suppose I could go for brunch. Theseus will be back soon with dinner and all is how it should be. But just as soon as Lulu shuts the door, the young boy’s knocking returns once again. Lulu answers in the same manner as before to find the boy bowing apologetically.
“I’m sorry ma’am for running away before,” he begins. “Please forgive me I was only looking for the archer that saved my life the other day so I can give this hand-crafted quiver to him as a thank you gift. I also ran away from a cook last time which was kind of rude of me…” The boy continues to ramble at my thrall who stares back at him with an empty smile. I feel as though I should say something if only to shut him up and be done with it. But just as I go to speak up, Lulu places a hand on his head and bends down to smile at him, thanking him without a word. For once the boy is actually silent.
“Hey kid,” I approach him.
“Oh, it’s you,” he responds unenthused.
I don’t know why it bothers me so much but something about how this kid accepts my servants and completely rejects me makes my blood boil. “Listen here you little twerp!” I yell, swinging my staff at him as Lulu holds me back. “Huh, my archer Theseus is out hunting right now,” I say to him regaining my composure. “You can hand me the quiver and I’ll give it to him when he returns and tell him you stopped by.”
“How do I know you won’t just take the quiver for yourself,” the boy questions.
“I’LL KILL YA YOU LITTLE RUNT!” I return to swinging my staff at him before once again regaining my composure. “Fine! If you want to sit out here and wait for him be my guest!”
Suddenly I notice my cook bring the boy a plate of egg and cheese casserole he made for brunch. I completely forgot; I said the phrase ‘be my guest’. All undead servants have natural tendencies that they developed during they’re life, muscle memory some may call it. Theseus was a skilled archer that wooed all the ladies, Lulu could make anyone drop their guard while picking their pockets, and for as barbaric as he was Barron always serves the guest first and made enough for everyone no matter how many unforeseen guests there were.
“Oh, thank you,” the boy politely accepts the plate. “Sorry I ran from you before. My name’s Oliver Chambers, I don’t think I caught your name.”
“It’s Barron,” I answer.
“Y’know, it’s kind of rude to speak for someone else,” the boy quips.
“Yeah whatever” I brush off.
Strange, Theseus is usually back by now. Even more strange is this kid, afraid of everything yet hangs around a house of undead waiting for one just to give him a gift.
For a moment this Oliver kid actually seems quiet as if reminiscing on a past memory as he looks to Lulu. “Y’know, you kind of remind me of my sister,” he says. “She was an adventurer too, the best assassin in the whole kingdom. I’m going to be a great hero just like her one day.”
Another adventurer, claiming to be a hero, all the while plundering homes and stealing their treasures. Though I don’t think this kid could hurt a fly, let alone a person. “Oliver Chambers huh,” I break the silence. “Your sister, she too busy adventuring to teach you how to hunt a bear.”
Oliver looks to the sky solemnly. “Yeah, something like that.”
I scratch my head for a second knowing his lack of an answer to mean she's probably dead. “Boy,” I say to him in an equally solemn tone. “Come inside a moment.”
Oliver looks back at me perplexed but follows, shaking profusely as he walks through the halls of my cave. Coffins line the wall, though I haven’t raised all of them many adventures have attacked me over the years. I ask if any of them are his sister in which he responds with a shake of his head, both in relief and in disappointment.
“The soldiers say she died on a quest given by Lord Lancaster himself,” Oliver explains. “But her body was never found. She was an assassin you see, and a great one at that, best in the whole kingdom. She was tough, smart, and even kind. She learned everything about her target before making a move, always questioning why they had to die. She never killed out of hate or vengeance, only when it was absolutely necessary to protect others. I just wish I knew what happened to her.”
I hesitate to ask the next question, “You want to find her body, don’t you?”
“I do,” he answers. “Alive or not, I want her to return home. Even if I have to bury her myself.”
I’m not sure if this kid is smarter than the average rift raft that begs me to revive their loved ones, or if he’s just too stupid to put two and two together. What ever the case, it’s nice not being asked to do the impossible for once. He’s not the easiest person to talk to but at least he’s not trying to kill me either. A kid like him, what parent would allow him to wonder around like this? Do they even know where he is right now?
“Hey kid…” I try to ask him when the sound of trotting horses catches my attention. There’s a lot of them and they’re getting closer.
“Yeah, I’m listening,” Oliver says not alerted at all by sounds. I move to the front door as he follows me. “Y’know it’s kinda rude to get someone’s attention then walk away…”
“Stop talking,” I hush him opening the door. And just like that, my peaceful life as a secluded hermit had come to an end. Silver plated soldiers atop armored horses surround my cave in an instance carrying with them long spears the first of which carry also a flag. Sky blue that fades outward into green with a golden dragonfly in the center, the crest of Lord Lancaster. Tied up behind the captain’s horse is Theseus clawing at the grown as he’s dragged through the dirt.
“Necromancer!” the captain calls out in a booming voice that sounds oddly familiar. “I take it this…thing is under your command.”
With a snap of my fingers Theseus stops pulling at his restraints and sits in the dirt sulking as he flips his hair in a pout.
“And what if he is,” I ask.
The captain grins maniacally before presenting a scroll. “By the order of Lord Lancaster,” he reads aloud. “The necromancer that resides at the edge of his lordship’s land, of which fits the description presented, shall be brought into custody and stripped of all possessions, for the murder of Olivia Chambers.”
“What? It can’t be!” Oliver interjects. “He showed me the corpses in his cave. My sister isn’t one of them.
“Stop talking kid,” I put my hand on his shoulder.
“Furthermore,” the captain continues. “His undead servants shall be brought to the court wizard for study and his… ‘home’ searched for miss Chamber’s body and any other incriminating evidence.” He rolls up the scroll as he peers down at me from his high horse with a grim smile and says, “Of which I believe we’ll find plenty.”
Oliver tries to argue for me, no one’s ever done that before. It almost pains me to see him try so hard but, in the end, I know it’s no use. I silence him once more before stepping forward to speak for myself.
“I knew I recognized your voice,” I say to the captain looking past his pathetic excuse for power. “You brought your daughter here not too long ago. Noel was it?”
Over come with rage he shouts the order for my arrest. Utter fools, these are the people I hate the most.
