Under a sky the color of wet slate, Viktor paused under the shade of a tree and looked across the fallow fields, toward his hometown. After a frustrating five days of travel due to low carriage traffic, he had returned home once more.
Wayward thunderstorms chased swift tides of clouds across the sky, like wolves hunting sheep.
Chipped still looked the same as ever. The forests that gave the austere town its name were dotted with gold and reddish bronze, and the blackened branches stood out against the sky.
Frayed-winged birds circled over the cliff to which they had given their name, their squawks barely audible in the breeze.
As he moved out of the way again to cross the bare fields, Viktor heard a painful sound that chilled the blood in his veins.
The lonely tolling of the chapel bell reached him across the desolate landscape. It could only mean one thing, because the bell rang when: someone had died and passed from the mortal world to the twilig
I have done all kinds of evil in my unnaturally long life as a necromancer, but the irony is that it was the wrong actions of others that made me a necromancer.When Inquisitor Felix Crissinger accused me, in our first meeting, of being that hideous specter, the Tomb Raider, I was, thus far, innocent of any crime. If that accursed Inquisitor had subjected me to the ordeal of the rack and inevitably found me unjustly guilty, he would have been burned on the pyre of heretics and killed innocent in place of that wretched Sederit Hischer.But the real outrageous irony is that if the irrational inquisitor had ended my life, he would not have been able to turn me into the very thing that the temples and the inquisition made so many puritanical efforts to eradicate. He would not have turned me into the very thing that Felix had accused me of.So I ask you, who prompted me to commit so many unspeakable acts of depraved evil?
Erich led Viktor off the street and led him for a hundred yards, then into the maze of back streets around the carpenters and woodworkers guild. As they moved quickly, they were talking."Erich, where are we going?""I can't ... I can tell you.""Why not? Are we going to the docks? "Erich took a moment to reply.“Y… yes. T… that's it. ""But I thought you couldn't tell me."Logic seemed to have abandoned Erich along with good sense.“I… I can't! Because you ho… you would be horrified. "Viktor's blood ran cold. What could it be that Erich was so desperate to show him and yet he was unable to mention?Suddenly, all of Viktor's suppressed doubts and worries returned in a moment of panic that made his heart race. Erich was walking away, se
"Professor Theodria. Impossible"Hearing Viktor's words, Professor Theodria put on a creepy smile full of evil"for the moments…. That would be my current name, although it is only one of the many names I have used ”Professor Theodria removed the ring and immediately returned to its repulsive and decomposing appearance.If Professor Theoadria was the Tomb Raider, who was Dr. Shandri Drake Tepes?At that moment, Viktor realized that it was not Theoadria who was holding the lantern as if he wanted to inspect the body of his prisoner. The necromancer's servant stood beside him, silent, his ghastly face white as marble polished in the flickering glow of light in one hand."W ... what do you want from me?" Viktor stammered, overwhelmed by the horror of the situation he now found himself in. He had to know why they had brought him there. He had to know why he was going to
Viktor could imagine the rest for himself: Erich taking him back to the house, observing his progress after the change that Theodria had imposed on him, encouraging him to develop his necromantic abilities and strengthen his mind; VIktor's friend betraying him unbeknownst to the impressionable peasant boy, acting as Theodria's spy, determining when Viktor had honed his talent enough to become a suitable vessel to which Theodria could transfer her malevolent soul.It wasn't Viktor who had driven Erich crazy. It had been his union with the Tomb Raider that had caused him to gradually lose touch with reality. This bitter revelation brought Viktor back to the present moment with tremendous shock.He knew that he was going to die. For a brief moment he wondered if he should allow Theodria or whatever her name is to finish him off instead of letting the black magic she had turned her back on use him once more for his foul purposes.
Viktor didn't need notebooks or hours of preparation to cast spells in the mausoleum. Theodria drew the power of death from this place, and Viktor could do the same. But there was no question as to what the strongest will was there.Viktor could still feel the evil presence of the Tomb Raider that lingered on the periphery of being aware of him. There was no time to lose. Viktor had to act fast while Theodria was still stunned from the impact of his initial assault.Viktor, the dark magician, cast a spell using as fuel the negative energy that he had absorbed along with his own inner mana, combining both energies to use black magic, to use Necromancy."[Reanimate the dead]"Hot, sticky blood gushed out of Viktor's nose as the dark power gathering behind his eyes shot out with a second spell. The bitter taste of black bile filled her mouth and she doubled over at the waist in excruciating searing pain
Father Wilkud leaned back in his chair while he rubbed his temples with callused hands, as if that might somehow help clear the fog of uncertainty and malevolent skepticism from his mind.Only then did he realize that he had become so caught up in the story of Brother Mateo that he had leaned forward to listen more closely.Wilkud felt a sudden chill run through him, spasming his frozen muscles and causing his entire body to cower in fear. His feet were numb with cold and the skin on his face felt as if it were taut and clinging to his bones. He had been so engrossed in confession for so long that he hadn't even realized that the fire in the fireplace had gone out.What time was it? Wilkud wondered absently. How long had the tale of the dying priest lasted? The brother must have been talking for many hours. In addition to being chilled to the bone, Wilkud had a raging hunger. Or was it the all-consuming doubt that he now
The old man succumbed to a terrible death, there was nothing the surgeon or the priest could do to prevent it. They took turns fluffing the sweat-soaked pillows on which the old man lay, and they toiled with candle stubs and curtains to ward off shadows and prevent drafts, but the bedroom was still chilly nonetheless. Where there should have been a roaring fire, the stacked logs and thin branches remained unlit. The two men lit herbs so that the smoke would protect them from noxious humors, and offered prayers of benevolence to the six great gods of the Sextet Pantheon. None of this changed things in the least. Count Victor Drake was dying. They both knew it, and worse still, he knew it. That is why they were by his side; they had come to watch over him. His lower lip hung limp, and a trickle of saliva trickled down his chin. Victor wiped it away with the back of his fr
Shandri sat on the edge of the old man's bed and wiped the blood-streaked saliva off his chin, then turned her attention to his uncle. He had known him all his life. In other times he had kissed the ground where he walked, but with age he came to understand that man was a worm. "And I suppose I have no say in the matter." Leom studied his niece for an awkward moment as she pushed her long blonde hair away from her face. She was beautiful in her own way, with fair skin and fine bones. The combination of her gave him a charming air of delicacy, although in reality the young woman she possessed the bad temper of the Drake family and she could be as devious as a weasel if she wished. “Not in the least, I'm afraid, my dear. I wish it were otherwise, but I'm not the one who made the law. By accident of birth ... you turned out to be ... female. With no male children, your father's line ends and mine begins as the oldest