Book of The Dead

“Did you really need to come?”

Elsbeth scowled at him.

“You think you can just unearth the honoured dead without a representative of The Three present to conduct the proper rites? These aren’t some corpses that you’ve stumbled over, they have been offered to you by the gods themselves. A little respect is the least you can offer.”

Tyron resisted the urge to roll his eyes and simply nodded, which appeased the Priestess somewhat. It shouldn’t be too surprising that his view on the sacredness of human remains would differ from a member of the clergy, he supposed.

To a Necromancer, they were literal tools, to a Priest, sacred relics.

“I wonder how many of these are around?” Tyron mused as he watched the skeletons work, shovelling silently under the direction of Filetta and his closest wights.

“Probably hundreds,” Elsbeth replied absently, also watching the excavation. “People worshipped The Three in this area for thousands of years, even before the rifts opened.”

Her eyes sharpened as she realised exactly what he was thinking.

“Tyron,” she said, sticking a finger under his nose, “there will be no further exhuming of ancient burial grounds, do you hear me?”

He held up both hands in a gesture of innocence.“It was just a question,” he lied. “Besides, without the souls, they aren’t any good to me. I have all the remains I could possibly want, but not the souls to go with them.”

This was partially true. He did have remains, but they were from Farmers, Merchants, craftsmen and women, common folk with low levels and weak bones, comparatively speaking. Tyron’s own bones, infused with the power of the Unseen, were as tough as steel and incredibly dense. He would make a truly spectacular skeleton, of that he had no doubt, but that particular set of bones the horde would have to do without.

If he could unearth the bones of powerful warriors from thousands of years ago, he was certain they would be excellent for creating minions. However, it wasn’t worth angering the gods or their followers to get his hands on them.

All the dead he could possibly want were waiting for him in the other provinces. They weren’t dead yet, but he could soon put that right.

Seeing that Elsbeth was at least somewhat satisfied with his answer, he went on. “I’m honestly a little surprised that The Three even remember where these dead were buried. It doesn’t seem like the sort of thing they would normally pay attention to.”

Elsbeth huffed, her arms folded across her chest as she turned back to the excavation, but she didn’t disagree.

“You can probably thank Raven for that,” she said. “I doubt the others were all that interested in such things.”

“I was also surprised that The Three actually did hold onto the souls of their most loyal and devout followers,” Tyron went on. “It doesn’t seem like them to have an everlasting reward sort of thing.”

“The followers of The Three do believe there is an afterlife with the gods,” Elsbeth told him. “I’m not sure if they view it as a reward, exactly, but they have always believed it existed.”

“It’s not a reward?” Tyron asked, one brow raised. “Being saved from the Realm of the Dead and the cycle of rebirth?”

“When you put it like that, it’s probably better than the alternative,” she conceded, “but I still don’t think an eternity of servitude to The Three is a reward.”

“Do The Three need servants?”

“Not really.”

He was starting to understand. The Three might keep the souls of their favourite followers in much the same way a child had favourite toys. Inevitably they would get bored and discard them, and then what? An eternity of drifting through the Dark Forest as a disembodied ghost?

Before them, thousands of skeletons worked without pause, shovelling huge amounts of soil and carting it away, along with the buried rock and stone that they found. A hundred kilometres north east of Foxbridge, near a thick wood, what had seemed like an innocuous hill to everyone who had lived here since the birth of the Empire was apparently a barrow mound. In answer to Tyron’s request, the gods had offered him exactly what it was he had asked for: remains and souls.

It had only taken a few days for one of the skeletal work-crews to get here and summon the Ossuary for Tyron to step through, and then several more days of ceaseless work to dig down to the entrance, which they hoped to uncover any moment now.

Giving him the location of the burial site was only half of the prize, however, with the real reward being the souls to go along with the remains. Apparently, this particular burial site was an especially memorable one, with those interned within being significant individuals in the time before the rise of The Five, but after the rifts had opened.

Tyron was looking forward to picking their brains, to be honest, since this was a period of history that was essentially completely lost. Most likely, The Five Divines had done all they could to eradicate any record of what the world had been like before their ascension.

He was also fascinated to learn just how much they had interacted with the Unseen at such a point. It didn’t overly matter if these ancient warriors hadn’t been that strong in life, they would gain a new Class and begin over again, to a certain extent.

Though it would be extremely helpful if they had been at least silver rank before they’d died. Certain skills and abilities would carry across after they’d been raised, so the higher the floor, the faster they would become useful.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

From below in the dig site, Filetta snagged Tyron’s attention through the conduit that connected them.

“They’ve found the entrance,” he said.

“Finally.”

The two made their way down, tracking through the now well-trodden paths the minions had worn into the hill. At the face of the hill, tons of sod and stone had been hacked and carted away, but they had also dug more than three metres below ground level. When they reached the pit, Tyron commanded the skeletons aside for a moment, and there it was, a stone-lined opening just beginning to be revealed from the dirt.

Already, the sigils and runes carved into the stone could be seen, written in a language that the Necromancer did not recognise. After inspecting the site, Tyron stepped back and let his minions resume their work while having a demi-lich conjure wind to blow fresh air into the crypt. Even with thousands of minions working, it still took several hours for the entrance to be fully uncovered and the barrow made safe to enter.

“Let me in first,” Elsbeth told him, poking the Necromancer in the arm. “I want to make sure the dead aren’t disturbed until I’ve performed the proper rituals.”

“Did you think I was going to stuff the bones into a sack and make a run for it?” Tyron replied, exasperated.

“You never know…”

He might be eager to create some new minions, but he wasn’t that eager.

“By all means, lead the way.”

After lighting a torch, Elsbeth entered the tomb with a deep sense of reverence, followed by Tyron, a globe of light floating over his palm, eagerly taking in every detail.

Ultimately, the inside of the barrow wasn’t especially impressive. A simple stone structure holding up a low roof, the wooden supports having rotted away long ago. Somehow, likely with the influence of magick, the space hadn’t collapsed, leaving the inside intact and remarkably dry.

Alongside the walls, recesses had been carved, into which the dead had been interred. Above each, several lines had been carved into the rock, perhaps a description or memorial of the person below, but again, he could not read it. Whatever language had been used to record these messages was long lost.

“Don’t touch anything,” Elsbeth warned him, catching Tyron extending a hand towards the sigils.

He sighed and pulled it back.

“How long do you need? I think I’ll just wait outside until you’re done.”

His curiosity was overflowing, not just to look for potentially unknown sigils, but his hands were practically itching to examine the bones he had seen, looking remarkably well preserved considering their age. Elsbeth had been right about him all along.

Giving him a knowing look, she shooed him out of the barrow, saying that she wouldn’t be long. Thankfully, Elsbeth was able to keep that promise while Tyron paced back and forth outside the burial mound. Once she emerged and gave him a final strict warning to be respectful, he rushed into the barrow and began to examine the skeletons in detail.

Truly, the bones were in remarkable condition, given their age. Just by touching them, he could tell that whoever they had belonged to was at least a silver rank, possibly even gold. After his initial examination, he passed the first set of bones to a waiting skeleton who transferred them to a box and carried them away to be placed inside the Ossuary.

One by one, he moved through the remains, carefully checking on each, taking an inventory in case any were missing or damaged and making note of the arms and armour they had been buried with. It was apparently a tradition for these warriors to be interred with their weapons and armour, since most had at least one or two pieces placed alongside their bones. Most promising, several had been buried with primitive staves, indicating the remains likely belonged to spellcasters of some kind.

The only thing Tyron needed more than new wights was more demi-liches, so he was ecstatic to find them.

After checking on each of the recesses and having the remains removed, Tyron then turned his attention to the more mundane items in the barrow. He didn’t have time to go through everything in the detail he would have liked, but everything that could be carried away was given to skeletons while he wrote down copies of all the sigils he could see.

Finally done, he exited the barrow and began to organise his minions once more. Some would return to Granin with him, but the work crew had other tasks in the region they needed to return to, namely collecting remains so he could continue to grow the horde.

There was nothing further to gain from the barrow, but he ordered his undead to cover the entrance again before they left. It was obvious to anyone with eyes that the hill had been excavated, but when enough time had passed and the entrance was grown over again, it wouldn’t be so clear where it was.

No need to let the Empire know that there were possibly hundreds of these ancient burial sites all over the Provinces.

Back at Granin, Tyron saw Elsbeth off and then rushed into the underground complex, trailed by a line of skeletons carrying wooden boxes. Warned ahead of time, the Corpse Handlers and Bone Crafters were ready and waiting with everything they needed to begin work. Diving in alongside them, Tyron set to the task of ensuring the bones were as well prepared as they could possibly be.

Although he didn’t feel especially reverent towards these particular remains, he was certainly motivated to ensure that they were the pinnacle of his craft. Each of them was to become a demi-lich or wight, after all, so he needed them to be powerful.

A fascinating blend of skillful handling and alchemy, the process for strengthening bones and readying them for raising had come a long way since Tyron’s early days of Necromancy. Those with the dedicated abilities related to bones were able to purify them of contaminants, repair even microscopic levels of damage and strengthen the bone in a variety of ways, elevating the remains well beyond what Tyron could achieve on his own.

Of course, to achieve the best result, extensive resources and effort had to be expended, making the process entirely unsuitable for application to each and every skeleton he raised. Even this much wouldn’t be possible without the fortunate finds he’d made in several dockside warehouses. At this point, there were very few of these support Class workers who’d managed to reach bronze rank, and likely none would attain silver in their lifetimes, crafting Classes being that much harder to level than combat-related ones. However, there was one that Tyron thought had a chance.

Phillip Hollis was an interesting individual in that he wasn’t as intimidated by Tyron as the others were. This was helpful, since the Necromancer could actually converse with him, but more than that, Phillip seemed to share Tyron’s devotion to his craft. Although he’d never stated how he felt about being gifted a Corpse Handling Class on his Awakening, the young man had worked longer and harder than anyone else and pushed himself to bronze rank at an impressive speed.

Even better, he’d selected a specialised Bone Cleanser Class that granted him enhanced abilities when handling bone.

“How long until this batch is done?” Tyron asked him.

As usual, Phillip didn’t bother looking at him, instead keeping his eyes on the femur he held in his hands. Eyes half closed, he wasn’t even necessarily looking at it, but feeling it as he ran his fingers lightly along the bone, searching for flaws. If he found anything, he would knead the area, applying magick to realign and repair whatever it was he found.

“I finished three skeletons yesterday,” Phillip replied absently. “Go work on those.”

“I have,” Tyron replied, “they’re done.”

“You’ve raised them already?” Pilliip asked, surprised, but not stopping his work.

“No, but they are ready to be raised. I won’t cast Raise Dead until they’re all ready.”

“You’ll have to keep waiting, then,” Phillip told him with a light shrug. “They’re done when they’re done.”