The Necromancer

Chapter 6, Part 3

Skip scowled as I flipped through the dusty tome and found the correct page, listing Amcerlizar's name. All of his titles took up an entire paragraph, and his address was listed as "Castle Morgathour, Undead Lands." Not "shitty little crypt in a village so small it only had one bar," like my entry read. Presumably. I didn't look at it, because the truth would probably be worse than anything I could imagine. But most importantly, it had Amcerlizar's summoning incantation right there.

"So that's it?" Skip asked with one eyebrow arched. She couldn't quite believe that she didn't have to climb anything or sneak anywhere or shoot anyone to get it. 

I tore the page out and slipped it into my pocet. "Well, that's it for the incantation," I told her. "This will let us give him a call. Now we just needed to work on getting him to actually answer." 

She looked me in the eyes and smirked. "But you planned for this part, didn't you?"

I nodded. "There's a professor here at the Academy. Professor Magdat. And if she were to call Amcerlizar, he'd absolutely answer. So all we really need to do is make it seem like that is what's happening."

Knowledge dawned across her face. "That's what Lamneras is working on, then."

I nodded. He was back in Bermatora brewing up a potion that would allow Skip to look just like Professor Magdat. "Yes. We just need some of her blood to use in the potion, and Lamneras will do the rest." We exited the archive and began heading back down the winding steps toward the courtyard. The demon didn't even look up from his book as we traipsed through the lobby and outside again. This time, it was teeming with students, crossing the icy fields in a hurry and clutching arms full of schoolbooks, bones, and potion ingredients. Class must have just let out.

"So who is she?" Skip said as we hustled toward Professor Magdat's office. "This professor of yours? What did she teach?"

I blushed just a bit. "She is the head of the Blood Magic department. Incredibly talented! She could do things that even Amcerlizar couldn't dream of. Instantly healing wounds, slowing down time..." My mind tried to remember everything that she'd talked about in class, but I didn't remember much. "She's over seven hundred years old, but supposedly created a powerful ritual that can steal youth itself."

Skip, eyes wide, gave an impressed nod. "Seven hundred years old? And still teaching?? Where do I get some of that?"

"She keeps it a secret. Says that it's far too powerful to ever let into the public. I think that she just wants to be the only one who is eternally young." A young student walking nearby us turned and gave a funny look and a familiar nod. He knew exactly who we were talking about. 

Skip tried to pretend like she wasn't cold, but I could see her shivering in her robes. I picked up the pace just a bit, and we made it into the gaping carved arch that led toward thedoor of the Blood Magic building. The decorations on the building were... graphic, to say the least. In every alcove, there were depictions of people hanging upside down over cauldrons with slit throats, or of Necromancers handing human hearts over to demons... really all of the worst things that the Paladins accuse us of doing. I'd considered focusing on blood magic in my education, but I was always a bit too squeamish for that. As powerful as its properties are... I just couldn't stand the thought of constantly dealing with hot sticky blood all the time. Not to mention killing people, instead of raising them back from the dead. Just wasn't for me.

The door creaked open and revealed an empty hallway, lined with roaring fires and portraits of famous Necromancers wearing formal black robes. Once upon a time, I had known who most of them were. Logthal the Mighty, Deferel the Cruel, So and So the Such and Such... now that I think about it, they all tended to run together. All of them were generally known for the same accomplishments: killing a lot of dead people using an army made of more dead people. Just like Amcerlizar. And after I killed him, then I'd be next in line to the Undead Throne. Right of Conquest and all that. I'd be the one with a portrait on the wall for killing lots of innocent people. Just like Dad always wanted for me.

  "So she was, what... Amcerlizar's mentor, or something?" Skip asked. 

"Errr... not quite."  I grinned sheepishly. "He wishes. Seems like Professor Magdat is the only one who never really bought into this idea that he was the best thing since summoning spells. Every single professor that we ever had recommended him to be the next Undead Heir except for her. That's why I think it will work if he thinks that she is the one calling."

Skip nodded as we descended deeper and deeper into the bowels of the building. Professor Magdat always preferred the very deepest dungeons; claimed that the cold and the dark was part of keeping her youth. "And you really think he'll come running just to please some teacher who never kissed his ass?"

We arrived at Professor Magdat's office. "That's really not the only reason..." I told her with a smile.

The door swung open with a rusty creak and Skip stepped in. I tried to follow her inside, but ran smack into her back as she stopped mid-stride.

"You're Professor Magdat?" she gasped. 

The skinny, buxom blonde woman behind the desk stood up. She flashed a brilliant smile with perfect white teeth, and her blue eyes seemed to light up with joy at the very sight of new visitors. Even years after I'd been a student, Professor Magdat looked roughly 18 years old, without a single wrinkle on her creamy skin. Instead of normal Necromancer robes, she wore a revealing red dress with cleavage so deep you could practically see her belly button. Just like she used to wear when I had been a student in the practically all-male Blood Magic class. I couldn't even remember how to do a simple exsanguination ritual, but my mind was still full of crystal-clear images of Professor Magdat's breasts, with that same sapphire pendant hanging between them. And I was counting on the fact that Amcerlizar would have the very same memories, because I know he spent just as much time gawking. When she came calling (with a fairly... unprofessional desire), he'd rush right on over into our trap.

"Yes, I am." Her voice was bright and cheery; not at all what you'd expect from a centuries-old sorceress. "How can I help you?"

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