3. Ignatius
three
Ignatius
Iggie glared at the ungrateful paladin, cursing his own stupidity. Shadow and shade, what had he been thinking bringing a Knight back to his home? The Order would sooner smite him than treat him like an actual human being.
Even now, studying the man he’d rescued, Iggie saw the expected hatred burning in his amber eyes and had to stop himself from looking away in shame, as if all his past sins had been laid bare. He’s no better than I am, Iggie reminded himself. His past experiences with the Order had proven as much.
“I don’t know why you dragged me back to your lair,” the paladin said, his chiseled jaw clenched tight.
“But I hardly think it was out of the goodness of your heart. No doubt you’ve kept me alive so I could serve as some perverse sacrifice.
Well, sorry to disappoint you, but I have no intention of going to my fate quietly. ”
Golden light flared around the paladin’s fists, and Iggie recoiled as reflexive terror squeezed his chest. Distant screams reverberated through his skull, and he barely resisted the urge to clamp his hands over his ears.
Not that such a gesture would do any good—he’d struggled for years to muffle those phantom cries without success.
The paladin hesitated, studying Iggie with narrowed eyes as though suspecting a trap.
His utter lack of empathy helped Iggie regain his lost equilibrium.
It served as a good reminder that the only people who cared what happened to him were long since dead.
If he wanted to navigate this delicate situation, he’d have to remain calm and rely on his own wits.
“I know what you think of me and my kind.” He tried to keep his voice light and his posture nonthreatening. “But I assure you, my only intent was to bring you out of that storm. Had I left you where you fell, I’m not certain even your dawnflame could’ve preserved you from the elements.”
“And now that you have, am I to be another prisoner?”
Another prisoner?
The paladin took a threatening step forward, and Iggie sent a mental command to his undead to bar the man’s way. Marlon and Cynthia knew how to handle the swords he’d foraged for them and wouldn’t hesitate to defend him if necessary.
“No one is to be anyone’s prisoner!” he said hastily. “Think of yourself as my guest.”
Alistair fixed him with an incredulous glare. “Your guest? As if I would ever consort with the likes of you!”
Iggie took a deep, soothing breath. Shadow and shade, why hadn’t he just left the paladin to die? It would’ve served the idiot right for chasing undead through a Dark-cursed blizzard. But telling him as much seemed a poor way to win him over.
“Last night, you lost your footing on a narrow pass and fell into a nearby ravine. Luckily for you, the snow cushioned your fall. When I discovered you there, I made the decision to bring you with me instead of leaving you to freeze to death.” A decision I’m quickly coming to regret…
The paladin frowned. While he relaxed his tensed muscles a hair, he kept his dawnflame-infused fists raised in a fighting stance.
His gaze never strayed from Iggie and his guards.
“What were you doing out in the storm? I thought you necromancers preferred hiding in the shadows and sending your undead horrors to fight in your stead.”
Iggie bit back a retort. The real reason was that he’d never learned how to properly command his skeletons.
They’d obey his spoken orders readily enough, but anything more complex than a simple mental directive confused them.
The only way to ensure they remained focused was to monitor them from nearby so he could intercede when necessary.
He didn’t dare risk explaining that to the paladin, however, not when any weakness he displayed might be used against him.
“My business is my own. You should be grateful for my generous hospitality.”
“Hospitality? Indeed, how generous of you to lock me in a cell.”
An embarrassed flush warmed Iggie’s cheeks. “Okay, so maybe it wasn’t the most comfortable spot to put you. But in my defense, you tried to kill my servants the instant you awoke, so I believe my caution warranted.”
“Only because I wished to escape! Had you not imprisoned me in the first place—” The paladin paused, then shook his head with a deep growl of disgust. “By the Light, it doesn’t matter. If I’m truly a guest here, then return my missing equipment and let me leave.”
Iggie hesitated. He hadn’t exactly thought that far ahead.
Seeing the paladin lying crumpled in the snow, his handsome face slack and peaceful as a Celestial, he hadn’t been able to resist rescuing him.
No matter how much Iggie despised the Order and wanted nothing to do with Khordan or its people, he had no interest in hurting anyone—not again.
“I can’t,” Iggie sighed after a moment’s consideration. “Not while the storm still rages. You’d never survive the walk to Singer’s Rest. Even if you somehow found your way without getting lost or stumbling face-first into another ravine, the cold would claim you.”
The paladin opened and closed his fists. Golden dawnflame pulsed each time he flexed his fingers, making Iggie flinch. “I’ll take my chances. Better the cold than your schemes.”
Oh, for the love of… “Do you honestly believe I lugged your heavy body all the way here just to sacrifice you in some diabolical ritual? Why would I bother talking to you?”
It was the paladin’s turn to hesitate, his brow furrowing.
“Who can say how your twisted mind operates?” he eventually replied, though Iggie heard the doubt in his words.
The man might be a heartless Knight with more devotion to his faith than basic human decency, but at least he didn’t appear to be a complete fool.
“Well, I can assure you that there will be no sacrifices.” Unless it’s the sacrifice of my own sanity having to endure your company. “The storm should pass in a week, maybe less. I have enough food on hand to ensure we don’t starve and plenty of firewood to keep us warm.”
“All stolen from the poor people of Singer’s Rest, no doubt,” the paladin huffed. Despite his condemning words, he lowered his fists.
The tension squeezing Iggie’s chest uncoiled as the dawnflame coating the paladin’s hands faded.
Now that he didn’t appear poised to strike, Iggie could see clear signs of the Knight’s exhaustion, from his slumped back to his wavering balance.
Apparently, even the holy Light couldn’t keep someone on their feet forever.
Iggie crossed his arms. “Wherever the supplies came from, you’re lucky I have them. However, since gratitude is clearly beyond your capacity, I’ll settle for peace. Leave me alone until the storm passes, and I’ll afford you the same courtesy.”
“And then you’ll let me go, just like that?” The paladin snorted and shook his head, the motion ruffling his chestnut hair. “Apologies if I don’t trust a necromancer at his word.”
Shadow and shade, my life would be so much simpler if I was actually the callous monster the Order assumes.
“Believe it or not, it’s the truth. You’ll see for yourself soon enough.” Unable to bear another second of the paladin’s smug self-righteousness, Iggie turned to depart the cell.
“Wait! What about my equipment?”
Iggie glanced back with a raised eyebrow. “Do you think I’m a fool? The last thing I need is an overzealous paladin rampaging through my home, smiting everything in sight. You can have your gear back once the storm passes. Until then, you’ll remain right here as my guest.”
“Prisoner,” the insufferable man grumbled. Still, he half-slumped, half-sat on the floor in his cell, the last of the fight leaking out of him.
Iggie considered correcting him again before deciding to accept the small victory. “I meant what I said. I’ll let you go as soon as I’m certain you’ll survive.”
“And I meant what I said.” The paladin fixed him with a weary glare. “I know better than to trust your forked tongue. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect the people of Singer’s Rest…even if it means purging you and every last one of your undead in holy fire.”
Screams echoed again in Iggie’s ears, accompanied by the sound of crackling flames. For a brief, terrifying instant, he was reliving that horrible night, trapped in the middle of a jeering mob while fire lapped at his feet from the two burning bodies stretched before him.
Wetness welled in his eyes, and he spun away, clenching his hands into fists. “Enjoy your stay, Sir Knight. And remember, if you give me a single reason to regret my decision to spare your life, I’ll have my undead flay you alive.”
With that, he stalked from the old storage room, waiting for his undead to pass before slamming the door shut and snapping the rusty lock into place. Marlon and Cynthia trailed obediently after him as he headed to the winding stairs that encircled the chamber’s outer wall.
How dare that stuck-up Knight treat him like some villain in need of divine punishment! Sure, Iggie had done plenty of things he wasn’t proud of, but it wasn’t as if the world had given him much of a choice.
Besides, what did that arrogant man know about hardship or suffering? He had the sort of stuck-up bearing that could only come from a noble upbringing. He’d probably spent his entire life having everything handed to him on a silver platter.
Iggie directed one last glare at the sealed door before starting up the worn stone steps.
So much for hunkering down until winter passed.
Now that he’d attracted the Order’s attention, he’d need to depart sooner rather than later.
He hadn’t anticipated them responding so quickly, not when he’d made certain to avoid harming any villagers or stealing more than he needed.
Didn’t they have more pressing problems than a necromancer who only wanted to be left alone?
This is what I get for risking my own neck to save a Dark-cursed paladin.
Shaking his head, Iggie sighed and ran a hand through his tangled crimson hair. It was growing too long again, but Javier was his only skeleton with any experience trimming hair, and he’d been one of those the paladin slayed tonight in that botched raid.
At least, the storm meant Iggie had a few days to decide how to handle the paladin’s release and what to do next. One thing was certain, though—he already couldn’t wait for the idiot Knight to be out of his hair and life for good.