Chapter B2C25 - The Chill of the Grave

Chapter B2C25 - The Chill of the Grave

Tyron crouched in the bushes, Yor’s words still running circles through his head.

“It’s important that you clean up your own messes,” she told him, that feral gleam in her eye. “The Court has sent me to watch over you to some extent, to offer advice and of course to accept your request to join our association.”

She grinned then, revealing her fangs and perfectly aligned teeth.

“For that to happen, however, you must be worthy. So far, I am impressed with what you have achieved, but you could be so much more than this. If you depend on me, then should I take that as an acknowledgement that you align with my faction?”

Her tone implied that he already was leaning that way, considering the favours he already owed the vampires. If he wanted her to help fight his battles, then he may as well formalise the arrangement.

He refused.

“Don’t worry. Should you find yourself on the edge of death, I will find you. The offer I make at that time will be far worse than what you would get right now, but I feel that you may accept it anyway.”

In that moment, the flawless seductress fell away and she allowed him to glimpse the beast that dwelled within. She gazed at him like a wolf staring at a hunk of raw meat.

“I-I’ll keep that in mind,” he swallowed, his mouth turned dry.

“Do,” she said, once again the elegant and sophisticated Yor that he knew.

Hidden in the bush, he shivered and pulled his cloak around him once more. It was so easy to forget what she was, sometimes. He was beginning to think she went out of her way to remind him, lest he begin to underestimate her.

She’d already appeared to him when he was on the verge of death once; he didn’t look forward to a repeat.

So he was on his own for this fight. Unless he counted Dove as helpful in any way. He looked down at the skull.

“What?” Dove said, a faint glow in his eyes showing he was alert.

“Just wondering if having you around means I have help or not.”

“How about fuck you? Big bad Necromancer, with your ghosts, and your skulls. How many of your lousy minions would stand up to my star wolf? Huh? Yeah, that’s what I thought. No help. If I’m no help, then set me free this instant.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Tyron chuckled.

“You are going to set me free though, right? We’ve had a number of conversations about this, but I like to check in every now and again.”

“Yes, Dove. I’m going to set you free.”

“Good to know. Now stop procrastinating and go murder these pricks already.”

Tyron rolled his eyes, but the Summoner had a point. He was distracting himself from the task at hand. He still wasn’t comfortable with attacking and killing people, even people like this. He hoped he never would be, if he was honest with himself. With a little luck, once he was done with these bandits, he’d be able to make his way to another rift and battle rift-kin. Those were enemies he was happy to kill.

He could feel them now. After what the Abyss-creature had done, they stood out in the night like sparks shining against a dark background. Be there trees, bushes or walls between them, it was impossible for the bandits to hide from him.

Not far to go now, just a few kilometres. Being cautious, he wouldn’t move until he had a clearer picture of what lay ahead. Thankfully, he no longer had to put himself at risk to gain that type of information.

With a mental command, he ordered his ghosts forward. Filled with resentment, they obeyed, drifting over the surface as near invisible spirits. They felt... stronger now, more tangible, their emotions boiling closer to the surface than they had before.

It was possible they were suppressed in some fashion during the day. Perhaps daylight interfered somehow with the binding? Or was it the other way around, something about nighttime strengthened it?

He shook his head. As much as he’d like to follow that thread, he needed to concentrate. If all went well, he would kill dozens of people before the sun rose.

Such a surreal thought.

He quickly enacted the magick and peered through his minions’ eyes, cycling through the ghosts as they spread out and advanced. Under the moonlight, what he saw through them was even more ethereal and disturbing. The landscape was twisted, covered in purple mist and winds, distorted in strange, unnerving ways. Despite the dizzying feeling and overall unease he felt, it was possible to filter it out and get a reasonable picture of what they were looking at, especially when they got close.

“So we end up with a middle ground. If you go down there, things are going to get fucked up. The villagers will see you, run from you, maybe try and attack you. Monty may even try to rally them to his defence, screaming about the evil mage who’s come to kill them all. So fucking what? Do you remember why we’re here?”

The Necromancer swallowed and nodded, reluctantly.

“I need levels,” he said.

It sounded so selfish when he said it out loud. Was it really alright for him to be doing this for such a reason?

“Exactly. There’s no point backing out now when you’ve already come this far. There’s thirty-odd sacks of progression down there, so sharpen up a stick and go poke ‘em full of holes. Spook the villagers off as best you can, grab what we can and run for it.”

The empty sockets of the skull glowed brighter.

“Listen, kid, every high ranked Slayer is a selfish piece of shit when you get down to it. If you’ll forgive me, your parents are exhibit A right down to fucking Z.”

Tyron nodded. There was no denying that.

“I get that you don’t want to act solely in your own interests, that’s great, but if you aren’t prepared to take this step, then what are you going to do? Give up?”

What were his options? Rifts existed to the east and south, but it would be more than difficult to get out there, impossible even. He needed to be stronger, to improve his abilities and acquire better ones. As he was right now, he’d be annihilated by the first Slayer he came across.

If he walked away from this village out of fear of killing the locals, and then came back a week later to find the men on stakes and the women in cages, what would he say to himself then?

No choices. There’s never any choices.

“I’ll do it,” he said, “but I refuse to kill any innocents. If they fight, I’ll just have to take it as best I can.”

“I think that’s the best decision,” Dove agreed. “You’ll want to have an exit plan in place, though. The moment we leave, they’ll be screaming to the law at the top of their lungs. You’ll be even more wanted than you are right now with thirty murders to your name.”

“Thanks, Dove,” Tyron said, sarcasm dripping from each word. “I appreciate the warning.”

It sounded bad, but in reality, he was already being hunted, so not much would change. He would need to clear out of the area and hunker down somewhere for a while, since they’d swarm over this village once the word got out.

“Alright then. Did you want to come along or should I leave you behind?”

“Fuck that,” Dove said. “I wanna see that fat fucker Monty beg. If I had my spells, I’d feed him to my star wolf, and when he came out the other end, I’d banish the shit to the Abyss. No way I’m missing his death.”

Tyron paused.

“Do Astral beings shit?” he asked, curious.

“What? No, of course not. That shouldn’t get in the way of a good diatribe, though. Stop worrying about the fucking details!”

“I just wanted to know.”

“You’re too inquisitive, that’s your damn problem. Always have to know everything.”

“That’s probably why I achieved two magick-related Mysteries before I ranked up.”

“... Nobody likes a showoff, you big-headed bastard. You fucking...”

“What’s that? Didn’t hear you at the end there.”

“Fuck you, Tyron. By the tits, you piss me off sometimes.”

“Love you too. Let’s go.”

With a silent command, he directed his skeletons forwards. The sleepy village sat quiet in the dark as the Necromancer and his skeletal minions surrounded them. Blades bare,