Defiant Necromancer (Book 2 stubbed)

Tybalt used Undead Repair as he began piecing the bits of his mummies - and Baldwin - slowly back together.

This is very interesting, he thought.

It was his first time using his powers again since he spent a night as a lich. He had more of a feel for his own mana now. It had felt intuitive before, and he’d thought his grasp on it was very sophisticated.

But now…

Tybalt pulled his hand away from the undead flesh he was touching.

What if I try…?

“Hey, m-master, you weren’t quite done, right?” Baldwin protested. “I - I’m still not attached, here…”

“Hush. I’m going to try something.”

He reached out with his powers and sensed the scraps of undead flesh and bone with his powers. He willed his mana to flow into them without the proximity of physical touch. He still had Bone Puppetry, and that skill activated automatically. But Tybalt was trying to do something more. He wanted to manipulate the flesh and blood, too.

Everything that had once been living.

He concentrated on the feelings of Bone Puppetry, Scrimshaw, and Fleshcraft. Those skills were the most similar to the results he wanted to achieve.

Manipulate and repair. Push into proper place and bind together…

“At least it feels nice,” the revenant muttered.

Tybalt had his eyes closed, but he cocked an eyebrow at Baldwin. The other man quickly shut up.

Flesh and bone knitted neatly back into its proper place. Mana circuits were reunited.

But it wasn’t enough, wasn’t quite what Tybalt was trying to do.

Improve… Strengthen. Rebuild stronger.

A memory clicked into place. Back in the Tower of Death, the lich Tybalt had fought there had put the undead together and used parts from other undead to make them stronger. Not just attaching arms and legs where they previously hadn’t been, but stitching more muscle onto limbs, reinforcing bone structures.

He sent a silent command to the nearest zombies and skeletons.

“Come and bring me spare parts.”

The next few hours were spent in experimentation as Tybalt allowed himself to fully shift from the task of repairing his damaged creations to the secondary goal he’d held: enhancing them.

He rebuilt Baldwin, not as good as he had been, but better. Denser, more powerful musculature. Bone attached upon bone, to make him more durable everywhere except the joints. Then Tybalt placed bone armor in some key places on the outside of his body - elbow spikes, knee spikes, a thick and wide collar around his neck.

From there, he proceeded to rebuild the mummies.

Tybalt was able to do much of the key reconstructive work without physically touching the bodies. That seemed to be the key precondition for a new skill variant - not a straightforward improvement, but a sort of lateral addition, unlocking new capabilities rather than replacing Undead Repair.

Skill Recognized: Undead Reconstruction acquired!

The new skill appearing was enough to make Tybalt blink and shake his head.

Right, it’s been a few hours. I should try the thing I actually wanted the mummies over here for.

At Tybalt’s command, Edgard came over first and opened his mouth. Tybalt reached inside and took hold of the mummy’s ancient, withered tongue. He concentrated, and using Undead Repair and Fleshcraft, he began trying to massage life back into the stiff, leathery flesh.

It took just ten minutes of awkwardly rubbing Edgard’s tongue into shape before Tybalt was able to restore texture and moisture to the hardened old muscle.

“Try talking,” Tybalt said with his heart in his throat.

Did it work?

Edgard made a few gargling sounds.

“It isn’t working, master.”

“Oh. Right. Of course.”

Tybalt spent another ten minutes using Undead Repair on the vocal cords inside of the mummy. He could do it without direct touch, now, as his level of sophistication grew. He just had to understand what he wanted to accomplish and persistently apply his mana to the goal.

Then…

“Master, I… can speak.”

Tybalt could see even through the bandages that Edgard was smiling.

“Good,” Tybalt said. “Good.”

“For what purpose did you desire this improvement, master?” Edgard asked.

“It’s high time that you and the other former Beastkings retake your former prominent roles in beastfolk society. We’re going to expand our territory, grow our population, and I will claim the royal title. I’ll need competent leaders beneath me. You and your fellows are all competent and incredibly potent. Together, you, my living companions, and I fought a dragon and survived. Not being able to speak was a serious handicap, but now your voices will lend strength to my authority. The beastfolk will appreciate being led by their own kind, even if you are undead. As a group, all of you ruled them for generations. The entire time they lived in Niet. I can’t think of better figures to help me guide them as we conquer the Kingdom.”

The other mummies pressed in around Tybalt as he finished speaking.

He felt the sentiment coming off of all of them. None put it into a telepathic message, but a lot of them were thinking essentially the same thing: Master, me next!

Tybalt grabbed the next closest one, Stanislaw, and got to work.

As he repaired, improved, and revived, Edgard stayed standing close by.

“Master, may I speak?” he asked.

“Yeah, I have this down now, I don’t need complete focus,” Tybalt said confidently.

“If your goal is to bolster your authority among our kind, I have thoughts on the next target…”

***

Several hours later, two men entered a partially burned house together.

“What did you want to discuss, Lord Tybalt?” Andric asked.

He felt a bit wary. He was almost certain this would have something to do with the plot against the necromancer that Tybalt had mentioned at the outset of their journey. Otherwise Tybalt wouldn’t have insisted on meeting him alone.

I hope he doesn’t suspect me, the foxman thought. After he fought a dragon, I don’t favor my chances in a one on one duel.

“I caught the men who were sent along on this expedition to kill me,” Tybalt said.

Andric swallowed. So I was right.

“Where are they?” he asked after a moment.

Tybalt gestured over to the stairs that led to the second floor of the dwelling. A pair of zombies dragged forth one of the fox tribe’s warriors. His arms and legs had been severed at the joint, but the cut places had been neatly closed up - the necromancer’s powers at work. The foxman had a slightly crazed, broken look in his eyes.

His aspect was so altered by pain and desperation that it took Andric a few seconds to recognize him.

That’s Mikkel. I… He was one of those who fought the Army with us. I knew Tybalt said that some members of the conspiracy might have been among that group, but it’s disturbing to see it.

“Please kill me,” he mouthed to Andric.

“I guess you got the answers you needed out of him?” Andric said, not looking away from the traitor’s face.

“There was never any doubt that he would talk, whether it was while he lived or after he died,” Tybalt said. “I preferred to make him do it while he was still alive, in case he needed to testify in any form of trial. This way, others will know I’m not simply puppeteering him, making him say whatever I wanted. There are other conspirators who have corroborated his words. They’re also still alive.”

Unfortunately for them, Andric thought. But probably necessary.

He shook his head. “Well, nothing more than they deserved for trying to kill you and others.”

“Indeed,” Tybalt said. “Justice. As for the actual leaders of the plot, we have two choices. We can hold a trial, or I can just have everyone involved killed and bury the events forever… But if you come up with something else, I am open to other options.”

“Why are you asking me?” Andric asked, his mouth going dry. He thought he knew why, now. “You clearly have things… in hand.”

“It’s because this affects you directly. More than most. Perhaps you’ve sensed that. And the second reason is because I trust your judgment and discretion.”

“My father or my brother?”

“Your father. He was the leader of the conspiracy. Other Council members joined in, but I would say he was likely the impetus.”

The mutilated traitor began, without prompting, narrating a story of the plotting, complete with names and a careful timeline of events.

It all fit together perfectly. Andric couldn’t say he was surprised either.

“Just… kill him,” he said bitterly, interrupting Mikkel’s story. His voice shook slightly. “He has disgraced our family. I can’t believe he’d do something so foolish. Or rather, I don’t want to. But it seems there’s no room for doubt. He would destroy all the progress we’re making. All to hold onto a little influence.”

My father would rather be first in a village than second in a great kingdom… would rather see our people live on the edge of death than secure with a human at the head. He hasn’t seen what we’ve seen here. The Kingdom’s peasants falling into line. Our soldiers acquiring more wives to expand our population. Yes, we’ll have a human king, but with a half beastfolk upper class. Tybalt’s children will be half-beastfolk, so they’ll favor us even more than he does. Father, why couldn’t you think of the long term?! You… could have gotten our whole family killed. You slaughtered children.

“You’re sure?” Tybalt asked.

Andric gave him a short, sharp nod in response, trying to convey, Why are we still discussing this?

“He’ll disappear, then. I’ll ensure it’s quick and that he doesn’t suffer.”

“After you did all this to him?” Andric asked, gesturing to Mikkel. “Even though, according to the conspirators, my father… was responsible for the deaths of children and for crippling Eldest Isak?”

“There’s none of us without innocent blood on our hands now, Andric,” Tybalt replied gently. “Sparing him the sort of suffering that his subordinates have experienced at my hand isn’t just, that’s true. It’s favoritism. It’s my consideration for you. The same reason I agree that it’s preferable to just kill him, not hold a trial. Maybe he deserves something worse than a painless death. Torture, or just the humiliation of a trial. But either of those things would hurt you… and make it difficult for you to assume his role as Chief. So I’d rather not- ”

“Thank you,” Andric said.

It felt ridiculous to be thanking Tybalt for this, but it was genuinely a favor to kill his father rather than disgrace their whole family with a trial. That would ruin not just Andric’s but also Zorin’s life. It might even result in Andric’s engagements to Tatiana and Sabine being broken off. The stigma of such treachery would destroy their social standing completely.

“You know, I don’t think he’d show me the same consideration,” Andric added after a moment.

“What?”

“He clearly never considered how his actions would affect me. I think he wanted to pull me into this conspiracy. The last day before we left, he tried to get me to go off with him and have a private conversation about something. Tatiana dragged me off, and we spent the rest of the evening on our own. I think… I think that was when he meant to tell me about the conspiracy. After he’d already done things that he couldn’t take back.” He shook his head. “He always treated me as just an instrument to continue his legacy.”

“I’m… sorry,” Tybalt said a little awkwardly.

Andric shrugged with great effort.

“You don’t choose your family. I was proud of him for almost my whole life. In time, I’ll be able to pretend that none of this ever happened at all.”

“My own father… is a piece of work,” Tybalt said. “You’re handling this much better than I would.”

“How did you deal with your father?” Andric asked.

“That’s a matter to be decided,” Tybalt said. He twisted his mouth into a small, bitter smile. “Maybe you’ll deal with him for me when the time comes.”

Andric shook his head. “Yeah. Maybe.”

“All right. Let’s go and discuss our next moves with the others.”

Right. The war waits for no one.