Chapter 2 #2
From discussions with others, he’d learned that Kosh was the only other necromancer in the Dunwich branch of the Order; not only that, but the only other necromancer in Dunwich.
Mal found him standing next to the statue of Hecate, and as Mal walked up to it, he could see that on the ceiling above the statue, in the same ancient marble, was a ghostly white face looking down at him.
A featureless, emotionless mask with eyes of pure black, except for three concentric circles where its pupils should be.
The unseen face. Hecate’s hidden gift. Necromancy.
He felt a satisfaction, but could not tell if he was the one feeling it or not.
“How are you doing?” Walters said, putting a hand on Kosh’s back.
Mal got the distinct impression that they were close, closer than anyone else Walters had introduced him to thus far.
The pair, however, could not have been more different.
Kosh was bald, with pasty white skin and a jovial air, while Walters had black hair, dark skin, and a stern demeanor that had only now softened as they’d reached Kosh.
“I’m not dead yet,” Kosh replied with hints of an Eastern European accent. The pair smiled at each other and turned to Mal. “Winston wasn’t too hard on you, I hope?”
Mal smiled and looked at Walters. “Nothing I can’t handle,” Mal said.
“Ha, you were right. I like him. What do you think of all this then?”
“Mildly terrifying, I have to say.” And I resurrect the dead, so that is saying something.
“We’re mostly harmless,” Kosh said. “We keep the plotting and assassinations to a minimum these days.” He chuckled to himself and watched as Walters sighed and shook his head.
“It’s all a bit much, really. Come, I’ll show you the best thing about this place and get you away from all these monsters. ”
Kosh walked him through an archway and down a corridor. At its end was a grand double door with the same three locks as the entrance. Kosh placed his hand on it, and as before, four locks clicked.
Behind the double door was an enormous library, several stories high and made from enough wood to fill a forest. There must have been tens of thousands of books in hundreds of grand bookcases; each ornamented, decorated, and inlaid into the walls.
Strips of emerald-green carpet ran along the floors and thin spiraling stairs went up and down either side of the room.
Mal was shocked by how symmetrical everything was.
In the middle, at the far end of the room, was a fireplace with cozy furniture organized neatly around it.
Here was the fire that warmed the whole place; it hummed and crackled and pushed warmth and light out into the room.
On the walls were old framed parchments and notices from the Order’s past. One that caught Mal’s eye immediately stated simply in bold print text, “BE KIND TO TALKING FROGS.” Kosh must have seen him staring at it.
“Words to live by,” Kosh said. “This room contains the history of our Order, journals and accounts from thousands of past members. There are just two accounts of talking frogs here, and both end in hideous, gut-wrenching death.” Mal laughed, but Kosh appeared to be sincere.
Mal wondered how the accounts were written down if they’d both ended in death; he felt ridiculous when he realized he was talking to a necromancer.
“I have to ask,” Mal said, “what does your Order actually do? No one’s really explained it to me yet.”
“Walters didn’t say?”
Mal shook his head.
“To keep it short, we are against eternal life. There have always been those who seek power, but death keeps them in check. If people knew about necromancy, the wrong sort would seek it out. No sane person seeks to conquer death. So, we keep it a secret. The mother of magic’s final gift.
The unseen face. Removed from books, removed from statues, removed from history. ”
“How do you even do something like that?” Mal said.
“Most of it was done for us. Our founders erased a lot of the history themselves. Most don’t know what caused the late Bronze Age collapse, but we do.
A single necromancer. He crippled Mesopotamian civilizations for a hundred years.
We keep any new, would-be necromancers in check.
Luckily, you can’t just learn it like other magics, which makes our lives easier—at least where necromancers are concerned. ”
“And how do you keep them in check?”
“Well, some join our Order …”
“And the others?”
“Aren’t so lucky. Walters pushed pretty hard to bring you on board. You should thank him when you get a minute.” Mal felt a great sense of unease. He hadn’t quite realized his life had been depending on this meeting going well. If he had, he definitely would have worn those polished dress shoes.
“So you’re going to impart your wisdom to me, or something …” Mal paused. It only dawned on him in that moment that learning necromancy meant having to use necromancy.
“I can assist, but everything I learned, I learned in here.” Kosh gestured to the library.
“It’s why I wanted to show you this place.
It’ll be useful for when I’m not around.
There are hundreds of accounts of the use and misuse of necromantic powers here.
Some from our Order, others confiscated from cults, liches, weirdos, you name it. You’re welcome to peruse it anytime.”
“Thank you. Though I’m not sure if I’ll take you up on that.”
“Oh really? Why’s that?”
“It’s just, my power, it’s …”
Evil.