4​ Hapless Creatures

TAVER THRUST THE knife into the moist wood of the window frame. It split, disgorging woodlice. Ignoring the droning voice in the background, he tipped over a louse and pinned it with the copper blade. It curled about the tip, legs wriggling.

The droning grew louder. An Aidari student answered a question. Beezer liked making the living answer the tough ones. He likes pushing us about, he thought, because we’re breathing and he’s just jealous. He had chosen a desk near a window so he could watch the rain. It always rained on Yalta. The denuded trees of the forest bent in the wind. Brown leaves and twigs splattered the small windows.

The Necropolis was abuzz with recent events. Both he and Tezcat had fled for the school, which yet remained untouched, to report what had happened. Beezer’s response, after a long silence, was that they were late for their lessons. The undead mages refused to discuss it further, and forbade all students to either. Extra lessons, to prevent idle talk was the solution. It didn’t stop the rumours, or Taver’s fretting.

So, he had gotten changed in his room, donning the hooded tunic, belt and breeches required by all male students and then grabbed his books on magic. They were the most expensive clothes he owned, though he dared not wear them outside of the school. Beezer insisted on certain standards, and cleanliness was one of them. Apparently, the living had a foul smell most of the time. Who knew?

Now sat in one of those lessons, he couldn’t banish the image of Tezcat kneeling amid the devastation. The butcher dead in front of her. He’d liked old Bors. Everyone had liked him. It had been mayhem in the village, with people hacking at one another, and apparitions floating about. Tezcat had since informed him those were wights and that not all could see them. He could because he had spectralic magic, even if it was weak. She neglected to mention how she knew what they were, but he supposed the undead knew lots of weird stuff. What worried him was how Rade was involved in it all, and why. The answers however, eluded him.

‘We should leave,’ he had whispered to Tezcat, as they’d gathered in the corridor before the lesson. ‘I think coming here was a mistake. The mages won’t do anything. We need to get off the island. They’ll attack the school next.’

‘They’re just dumb wights,’ she’d said, but there was a look in her eyes saying she didn’t believe her own words. ‘Beez’ll handle ’em, he will. You’ll see.’

‘Whatever those things are, I bet they have it in for virals in particular. For you, Cat. Else why would they have attacked? Vasara’s not worth anything to anyone.’

‘Beez’ll takes care o’ us. No one’s gonna bother a fortress fulls o’ undead mages.’

‘You’re not all mages, though,’ he’d whispered as Beezer had arrived and ordered them all into the room for their lesson. ‘You’re a novice, and I’m going to keep you safe no matter what you say.’ As her future Aidari it was his job, wasn’t it? Also, more importantly, she was his friend. One way or another, he was going to get her out of the Necropolis and off the island. Where to then? Well, he’d figure it out.

Someone lit a lamp in the room. The weak light showed up his pale face in the bubbled glass, the louse still wriggling beneath the point of his blade. It was through this reflection he first noticed the commotion. People had gathered in the streets bordering the outer walls. There were the makings of another village in those streets, smiths, tenements, whore-houses and taverns for the Necros. A few traders had also set up lean-tos to sell their wares. From this height in the tower, he could make out some of the people gathering. Fires had broken out as disorder spread. The Necros Guardians were converging on the disturbance.

Taver had heard there were ancestors of the undead buried in the walls of the Necropolis, and beneath its foundations. There was a power in the building, which Tezcat insisted made it a fortress. Besides magic, the Necropolis bristled with defensive battlements and towers. Not to mention a strong complement of well-armed guards. Still, Beezer should’ve done something. People were dying out there and beyond in the village. Instead, they had lessons.

The droning voice rose in pitch.

There were more mutilated bodies on his desk as he chopped several insects in two. His thoughts were awhirl. He nicked his finger, blood beading on his skin.

The droning stopped, and a voice called out, ‘Taver Wyn?’

He didn’t answer staring at the blood. It was what made the difference between them. The living had it. The undead didn’t. Is this what it’s all about? he thought. Can it be so simple, so stupid?

‘What do you have in your hands?’

He glanced up. Imperial Viral Mage Beezer stood before the rows of seated students. He wore a cloak known as a dalba, of deep black. All the undead mages wore it when in the presence of the living. A green-splotched angel sat in the corner by the door. The bronze statue hadn’t weathered its years well outside. The nose was eroded, the tip of one wing gone. It looked about as healthy as Beezer did.

Behind the mage was a dusty white chalkboard. The room smelled of damp, fish oil, and smoke.

Taver realised everyone was staring at him, living and undead. Tezcat to his right, mouthed something. She smiled at the innocent, I didn’t do anything, look he gave her.

‘Wyn.’

‘What?’

‘Is that a knife?’

‘No.’

‘You are aware of the rules, Aidari. You are also aware of the punishments?’

With a sigh, he placed the knife on his lap under the desk. He knew, and wasn’t sure he cared. Why was Beezer bothering him, instead of saving those people?

‘I can still see it,’ Beezer said. ‘At the very minimum, you might display some talent in hiding it. Then I’d know you’d learned something. Bring it here to me.’

‘Maybe you can see it, but I can’t.’

Beezer marched between the rows to stand over him, like the Grim himself, imperious and terrible. At least, that’s how Taver imagined the Grim to be. Beneath the deep hood, he could tell the mage was missing a piece of his head; some incident on Adalalcas, or wear and tear. He wondered if there was a brain inside, all shrivelled and dried out. It was difficult to see into the darkness of the cowl. What was visible of the mage’s face and hands, reminded him of lizard scales.

‘Why do you attend this school,’ the undead mage demanded, ‘if you have no desire to learn?’

‘It was you who invited me, remember? I never asked.’

Beezer sighed.

Taver glanced at Tezcat, who shook her head in warning, but he was past caring. ‘Why won’t you do anything?’ he blurted, unable to hold it in. ‘You’re all hiding in here, pretending everything is fine. You know what’s going on out there. Living folk are dying, and because of you. Those things are here for you. Why won’t you help those people?’

‘That is enough, Taver.’

‘Because they’re breathers, right? You only care about those like me, with some magical talent, but the rest can all die.’

‘I said, enough.’ A dark wisp of viralic power leaked from the mage’s fingers. It wafted across the desk like a black mist, curling over and under it, passing across Taver’s fingers. He felt its cold touch and recoiled, but the knife was now in Beezer’s hands. The mist evaporated.

‘You learned nothing, today,’ said the undead mage. ‘Just like every other day.’

‘What’s the point? I can’t do magic like you insist I can. It’s been a year, and I can’t do much of anything. You were wrong. I’ve been wasting my time here.’ He glanced at Tezcat. Well, he thought, maybe it wasn’t a complete waste. Besides, he did like it in the Necropolis. Here he felt safe, which also bothered him. Couldn’t they let the villagers inside?

Beezer examined the knife before stuffing it within his dalba. Tezcat said they wore the cloaks with the deep hoods to hide their bodies and faces. It was a mark of respect to the living, or something. Made no sense to him.

‘Every living soul has the ability to touch magic,’ said Beezer, ‘even one as irksome as you.’

‘You should be doing something,’ Taver muttered.

With a brief gesture of his fingers, Beezer said, ‘Tezcat, my dear, if you would be so kind as to demonstrate.’

Tezcat frowned at the mage for a moment, before Taver noted movement on his desk. He watched as the dead woodlice began moving. The ones he’d cut in half also came back to life, or some form of unlife. Then he felt pain in his left hand, and saw three blisters appear, followed by a fourth and the fifth was biggest of all. Another on his neck. He glanced at Tezcat, who gave him a sheepish look.

‘Concentrate,’ Beezer commanded him. ‘You killed these pathetic creatures with a knife. Now, do it without touching them. Destroy them. I would prefer something creative, but destruction has always been easiest to learn. A lesson in and of itself, I would imagine, though likely lost on you.’

Taver stared at the insects, thinking back to all the lessons he’d never paid attention to. Tezcat was his real reason for remaining, and Beezer knew it. Bastard’s just punishing me, he thought, trying to embarrass me in front of the others. Well, I don’t care what they think. He did care what Tezcat thought, however.

Beezer bent closer to him, and placed a withered hand on his shoulder. ‘You never listened, and never learned. Now, forget all that. It is unimportant. Inside of you is a power you choose to ignore. I want you to acknowledge its existence. Once, there were living magi, spectrals, and there were wizards and witches of lesser power too. All possessing magic. Living and breathing, like you.’

Aidari were of the living, and capable of magic, but none came close in power to be considered mages. Instead, they became apprentices to their undead counterparts for life. ‘Why are there none now?’ asked Taver. ‘What happened to them?’

Beezer chuckled, which was unnerving since the mage never laughed. ‘Why indeed? Perhaps you will be the first in centuries. Wouldn’t that be something?’

Taver wasn’t sure he liked the idea. Becoming an Aidari was bad enough, an aide with limited abilities to supplement and protect his mage. An undead woodlouse darted across the notched surface of his desk, hell-bent on escape. He stared at it, wondering what he was supposed to do.

As he stared at the insects, a tingling sensation travelled the length of his neck and spine, where his horns grew. His feet became itchy, and he fought the urge to scratch. Whatever was happening, it was something he’d never experienced.

On instinct, he touched the corners of his desk, and the insects stopped moving. A thin weave of blue-white energy trembled along its edges. As it touched the wood, the desk came alive. Slivers erupted to impale the crustaceans. Other sections of the desk began to warp as miniature whirlpools formed, sucking the hapless creatures inside.

Shaking, he withdrew his hands. A residue of energy remained for several moments before fading.

Tezcat smiled at him, and then he grinned back. It was the first bit of real magic he’d ever performed.

‘Impressive,’ Beezer said with a grunt, ‘enough to forego your punishment, I think. You are who you are, Aidari. Tezcat drew upon your life to perform her magic. Once you learn to take life from other creatures, to store it for her, she will draw upon that instead. It is why we chose you. With training, no viral will be able to touch your life force save for what you store. The power within you is not for you to deny. Your purpose is to serve. Can you accept this? If not, you should leave this day, and not return.’

Taver stared up at the mage, and something passed between them. Beezer knows something, and he’s trying to tell me.

The mage returned to the front of the room, robes flapping across the desks.

Taver glanced to his right, and Tezcat winked at him. She wagged her finger in a, you’ve been naughty, again, manner, but looked pleased.

He then gave a start as a ghost, one with long blond hair, appeared at Tezcat’s side. She was smiling down at the undead girl. Tezcat’s form wavered, and vanished. Startled and terrified in the same instant, he glanced at Beezer and the others, but none appeared to have noticed. Well, he’d heard of all sorts of goings-on with viralic magic, but this was new. Should I say something? Is she coming back? If this was her doing, he didn’t want to get her in trouble. She was often up to her tricks.

‘As I was saying,’ said Beezer in a dull tone, ‘awareness directs thought and with thought we can direct spirit. When one controls the spirit—’

Without warning, Beezer halted the lesson and moved to stand by the window. The disturbance outside had grown louder, and nearer. The mage looked out at billowing smoke, towards Vasara. The students eventually left their seats to gather around him, muttering among themselves, living and undead mingled as one.

The main gates to the Necropolis compound remained shut. Extra Necros manned the battlements. Others marched in patrols, under the shouts of officers. Taver had only attended the school for a year, but he knew this wasn’t normal. The Necropolis was preparing for an assault.

A Necros entered the room behind them, and they turned, all but Beezer. Two more guards waited out in the stone walled corridor, hands on sword hilts. To enter unbidden was unheard of. The guard, armoured in bronze with a sword on his left hip, marched between the rows, shoving students aside. He halted behind the mage.

They stood in silence for several moments. Tezcat appeared, and grabbed Taver’s left hand, entwining their fingers. He winced at the pain from the blisters. Concern filled her dull eyes, and fear too. If she was worried, he knew he should feel terrified. He gripped her cold hand tighter.

‘Where’d you get to?’ he whispered.

‘Some-when,’ she answered in a cryptic manner, although she often had trouble with words.

‘Cat, we need to get out of here.’

She shook her head. ‘None o’ us can goes nowhere. We is safe here.’ She winked. ‘You breathers is always panicking, like rabbits.’ She giggled.

He felt helpless. She wasn’t going to leave, and from the looks of things, it didn’t matter. They were trapped.

‘What is happening?’ asked one of the students, this one of the undead.

‘Are we under attack?’ an Aidari girl asked, looking frightened.

‘Are there people dying out there?’

‘Don’t matter. They’re just dumb breathers.’

‘Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?’

‘That breathers are dumb.’

‘I’m a breather.’

‘So?’

‘Those are screams, right? I heard screams.’

‘Lessons are suspended,’ announced Beezer, silencing them. ‘The Necropolis is under lockdown. Go to your rooms. None of you may leave until I say. Lock yourselves in.’

The guard had said nothing as far as Taver could tell, but it was obvious the mage was rattled, which in turn terrified his students. Well, the living ones at least. The younger virals appeared at ease, but that was the undead all over. Not like they had to worry about dying, at least, not like the living did.

The guard, joined by his comrades, began to herd them out into the corridor.

As he left, Taver glanced back. Beezer remained by the window, in that manner of stillness only the undead could manage.