Chapter 3: Chapter 3

Looking out the carriage window at Desolation Fort, Keir decided it needed a name change it was hardly desolated now.

The small mountain valley was thick with people. Acrid smoke assaulted his nose, the people were burning anything they could for heat and cooking. Almost as bad as the smoke was the stench of unwashed bodies and overflowing latrines. Soldiers stood guard over some pathetic fields, that would possibly feed a thousand or so people. The fort itself was an ugly thing at the far end of the valley, stretching between two cliffs, preventing anyone from entering the valley without permission.

“I'm amazed you haven't had any outbreaks of cholera or disease,” he said. During his campaigns he'd had to deal with both of them far too often. Fortunately half of his army had been animated dead, it made sanitation easier, and he could raise the dead to increase his ranks. It still wasn't good for morale among the living soldiers or their families back home.

“We've had both,” Von replied. “The last flu outbreak took over a thousand souls. There aren't enough tools, medicine, tents or healthy people to do even a quarter of what's required. Everything and every healthy person has gone to defend the pass.”

Looking at a large area of overturned dirt and gravel, he could feel the death energy rising from the spot. They'd resorted to mass graves, rather than burning the bodies, probably because there wasn't enough material to burn. A thought came to him, if he was going to regain his former standing he might as well start now.

“Can we stop? I would like to help these people.”

Von looked at him curiously. “You want to help?”

He gave the mage a stern look, which didn't feel right since he had to look up at Von to do it. “Despite what my enemies said, I ran my cities well, and avoided unnecessary deaths among my subjects.”

“You think these people are your subjects?” the mage asked, he sounded curious rather than accusatory.

“If I'm to fight these demons, I'm going to need healthy, living people. The dead are terrible at making tools, farming, or fighting without proper instructions. These people are needed, and if they're sick or too weak to work, they're useless to us. Now,” Keir said, keeping his voice calm and even, “I'm making a request as befits my current position. Will you allow it?”

There was a long pause, as Von thought it over. With the carriage moving at a crawl through the crowd, this wasn't exactly a problem. Finally, the mage leaned out the window, “Stop. We're going to do something to help the refugees,” he shouted at the coachman and the soldiers.

Stepping out of the carriage, Keir cursed to himself at having to hop down the steps. Couldn't they have found him a taller body to be resurrected into? Climbing awkwardly up beside the coachman, he managed to make it onto the roof of the carriage without falling or looking like a complete fool.

Looking at the mass of people, most of whom were staring back at him, he realized that he had to look extremely odd. For the first time he noticed that his scalp was bare of hair, likely so they could put one of their control tattoos onto him. So they were staring at a bald, tattooed teenage girl, wearing male clothes made out of pure shadow. He had to grin, at least he wasn't forgettable.

Carefully thinking over his words, wanting to avoid scaring the crowd, he cast a minor spell. Then for the first time in three hundred years Keir spoke to the masses, his voice amplified so all could hear.

“People! I am Keira, a powerful mage. I have only just arrived, and tomorrow I'll be going to the front lines to support the soldiers and destroy the demon army that has hounded you for far too long. But today, I am going to help you.

“You need proper latrines, wells, and security, I will provide all of that. Stay where you are and allow my magic to help you as best I can,” he said.

Raising his arms, he collected the ambient magic to him, mixing it with the death energy that permeated the air. Bending it to his will, he sent it to the mass graves, forcing it to enter the bodies under the dirt. As he felt each body begin to rise, he mentally twisted it so the zombies and skeletons would automatically collect a trickle of ambient magic. That magic would allow them to remain animated for decades, without relying on his own personal power.

Some people screamed as the dirt was shoved aside and the dead crawled out of the earth. The guards looked nervously, first at him and then to Von. Before the panic could get out of hand, Von stepped out of the carriage, moving to the front of the carriage.

“Everyone,” Von said, using his own spell to be heard over the noise, “this may seem alarming, but you have my word that Keira has not only my permission but my trust. While her magic may seem frightening, she is using it to help us all.”

The mage's calm assurance helped and the crowd, while still wary, no longer seemed ready to bolt. Keir gave him a small bow of thanks, before turning back to the growing number of animated dead. With a thought, he sent most of the zombies to the edges of the refuge, where half of them used rocks and bits of bone to break up the hard earth and the rest carried it away, slowly creating several long lines of latrines.

Casting another spell, Keir felt for water under the earth. It didn't come as naturally as casting necromantic spells, but he'd had plenty of practice with the spell while leading his army. Sensing the nearest source of clean water, he directed the skeletons, who were mostly free of rotting flesh, to start digging wells, using the same crude method the zombies were using.

Without shovels or picks, the digging would be slow, but the dead wouldn't get tired or injured, and there were a lot of them. By morning the people would have access to clean water, and wouldn't be stepping in their own waste.

Breaking the last hundred zombies into groups of ten, he waved to the officer in charge of the horsemen. The man came over and looked up at Keir, his expression a touch softer than it had been earlier.

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“What's your name, sir?” Keir asked.

“LieutenantAgrippa,” the officer said.

“Lieutenant, tell whoever is in charge of the soldiers by the fields, that those ten groups of zombies are his to control. They just need a living person in charge and they'll follow whatever orders they're given,” he explained. Another thought came to him. “Also when the labourers have completed their tasks, have someone in uniform order them to clean up the waste and do any other task that needs doing. I've created them to follow orders from soldiers and no one else.”

That got a single nod of acknowledgement, then the lieutenant turned away and ordered one of his men to pass on the word.

Keir had been hoping for a bit more gratitude, but he didn't take it too personally. They had been told all about the 'evils' he had done for three centuries, it would take a while to counter the rhetoric. Seeing the masses looking in awe at his creations, he knew he was off to a good start. When his creations proved their use, the awe would turn to appreciation.

With his magic still coursing through him, he mentally commanded his servant construct to rise out of the carriage. The ghostly woman stood silently by his side waiting for an order. Casting his mind outwards, Keir thought about what he wanted, a dutiful and skilled servant. From the death energy a personality took form, taking bits and pieces from the remnants of memories that filled the air. When it felt right, he joined the gestalt personality into the construct.

Before his eyes, his servant shifted, growing older, it's blonde hair turning to black, the dress became less ornate, going from a dark blue with yellow trim, to a dull brown with a white apron, finally her chest began to move as if she were breathing. Her almost black eyes looked around with polite curiosity, then she saw Keir.

“My lady,” the construct said, curtsying, “how may I be of service?”

“I'm not your la-” Keir began to say. Then his situation once again struck him, and he had to chuckle, which sounded far too much like a giggle. “I don't require your services at the moment. Simply stay by my side and be ready to serve, Hanina,” he told her.

The servant, named after his head maid when he'd been emperor, silently curtsied and stepped back waiting for orders. Satisfied that the essentials were now taken care of, Keir awkwardly climbed off the roof and got back in the carriage, followed by Von and Hanina, both of whom had a much easier time of it. He hated being short.

The mage studied the now intelligent servant, who stared impassively back at him. “Did you use a soul to make her?” he asked.

“No. I don't usually work with souls unless I feel the person needs to be tortured,” Keir said, remembering his earlier threat to tear apart Von's soul. “The soul vanishes almost immediately after death. Don't ask me where it goes, I don't know, you'll have to study religion to find your answer. I just took pieces of personalities to create her.”

“Personalities?”

“When the body dies, the soul leaves, but something remains, it's not a shadow of the soul, more like a memory. Particularly strong memories can form ghosts, reliving moments of their life, or becoming a thing of pure emotion. It's much easier to use a personality, taking pieces of them to create the perfect servant, then it is to bind a soul.”

Von nodded in understanding. “Some of the scholars who studied your Heart, speculated about something like that. They wanted to do research into it, but were forbidden by the Council.”

Shaking his head at the foolishness of the Eldritch Council, Keir remembered how his own research had been looked at with horror in his own time. It was why he had created the Necromantic College, so he and his peers could study in peace. “I suppose most of my research was destroyed after my death.”

“Yes, but not by the Council. With your death, your empire split apart completely, your students and magical peers fought each other for power. The College was destroyed, along with a large portion of Anwen, in the fighting. It signalled the end, and most of your vassals and allies surrendered in return for leniency,” Von said.

A thought insisted on pushing itself into his mind. He'd been holding it back as best he could, but hearing how his lifes work had burned, the question wouldn't be denied. “And my children?”

The mage watched him with sad and weary eyes for a moment before answering. “Most were confirmed killed in the chaos, mostly by rivals hoping to take over your empire by removing those with a claim to the throne, or people hoping that by destroying your line they would gain favour with your enemies, or your enemies wanting to punish your family. Your two eldest were killed when you were assassinated, part of the plot to destabilize your empire. A few vanished in the chaos, if they survived they never came forward.”

Keir had known when he made the Heart, he would likely be resurrected long after his children and wives died. He had created it more out of curiosity and ego, to see if he truly could do it, not to become some immortal emperor, so his line of succession had been clear. Still hearing that all of his children, even the infants, had been slaughtered like dogs, was a dagger in his chest.

Von put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “If you wish, when we reach the keep you can talk to a priest. We have several, all of whom are experienced at providing support.”

“No need,” he said, forcing his grief away. The only emotion he could allow himself was carefully focused anger. “If I'm to fight demons tomorrow, my time is best spent studying how to kill them.”

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