20. Alistair #2
Iggie sighed, rubbing tiredly at his eyes.
Thin wisps of duskflame curled off him like smoke.
“I tried that already. Obviously, the order didn’t go through.
Julian likely only visited it that once.
The route must not be ingrained enough to have left an impression.
” He shivered and tugged his cloak tighter about himself.
“Or perhaps his terror lingers even in death.”
Recalling what Iggie had told him of Matrim and Julian’s fates, as well as those of the other missing villagers, Alistair fought down his own shudder. “I wouldn’t blame him. Still, we can’t give up. There must be a way to jog his memories. You’ve just got to find the right tact.”
Iggie snorted. “Says the guy whose answer to everything is to burn it with holy fire.”
A smile quirked Alistair’s mouth. “Fair, but not entirely accurate. Though I mainly use my dawnflame for battle, it can accomplish more than coating a fist or a sword. Paladins also wield it as a light source or draw upon it to reinvigorate and heal our bodies. It’s the same principle here.
Tell me, what are the properties of your duskflame? ”
When Iggie gave him a blank look, Alistair shook his head, fond exasperation filling him. “All right, let’s start with a simpler question. What can you do with your powers?”
“Animate undead,” Iggie said instantly.
“And?” Alistair pressed. “What else?”
Iggie frowned and kicked at the loose snow coating the ground. “That’s about it.”
Alistair raised an eyebrow. “Is it?”
This time, he could tell Iggie actually considered the question, his forehead creasing.
After a brief pause, Iggie said, his voice far less certain, “Well…I can raise corpses as undead skeletons, like I said. And as Julian proves, I suppose I can access their memories from when they were alive.” He shot Julian’s skeleton a glare. “At least, to a limited extent.”
“Good. What else?”
Iggie’s response came more quickly this time. “I can sense where my undead are, even at a distance. And I know when one of them is hurt. I can also issue them commands, either verbally or mentally…though if I can’t see them, I don’t always know if they’ve obeyed.”
Two weeks ago, this frank discussion of necromancy would’ve sickened Alistair, raising the hairs on the back of his neck with horror. Now, however, he found himself oddly fascinated by the specific strengths of Iggie’s magic…as well as its apparent limitations.
“What types of commands can you give?”
Iggie scratched at the back of his head, looking mildly embarrassed.
His crimson hair billowed in the light breeze.
“Only pretty simple ones. I’ve found it works best when they’re something the undead did in real life.
Like, I can instruct Pierre to cook me dinner, and he’s able to draw upon his preexisting knowledge and carry out the task with minimal guidance.
But if I try to issue the same command to a different undead, it might make me something basic or even fail to follow the order at all.
Like my attempt to order Julian to return to the cave. ”
That fit with what Iggie had told him in the past. Alistair nodded thoughtfully. “So, your undead retain certain memories or skills based on what mattered most to them in life.”
“Exactly!”
“And if you give them too complex of an order or a command they don’t understand?” Alistair’s gaze settled on what remained of Julian. “What happens then?”
Iggie hesitated. “Usually, nothing. They’ll just keep doing what they were doing as if they never received the order.
Sometimes, though, if they sort of understand what I want, they might attempt to carry out their interpretation of the command.
” He snorted, his gaze going far away. “Which can lead to some unfortunate results.”
Filing that tidbit away to ask Iggie about later, Alistair continued along his current train of thought. “But it won’t hurt them if they can’t complete an order?”
Iggie’s blue eyes narrowed as they refocused on Alistair. “What exactly are you getting at? I already told you that commanding Julian to take us there didn’t work.”
Alistair turned to survey the frozen landscape around Singer’s Rest. “No…but maybe that’s because you haven’t found the right command yet.
Based on everything you’ve described about your duskflame, convincing him to guide us remains our best course, and you said it yourself—there’s no harm in attempting every possible combination of orders you can think of. ”
Iggie barked an incredulous laugh. “You do realize how many ways there are to phrase the same command, right? That could take a while.” When Alistair only shrugged, he sighed. “I suppose we’re already here, so we might as well exhaust every possibility. Hang on.”
The necromancer closed his eyes, facing toward the undead in its flapping cloak.
Long minutes passed while nothing seemed to happen.
Alistair couldn’t even spy a flicker of Iggie’s duskflame, though he assumed the necromancer was using it now.
Imparting commands via a spirit link must not require an overt manifestation of his magic.
Alistair’s thoughts drifted to Brother Kelvin, the priest’s warning echoing in his head before he shoved it away.
No matter what the Order taught, Alistair believed what he’d told Iggie—there was nothing wrong with him or, by extension, his magic.
Alistair might not fully understand how Iggie’s duskflame worked, but if it helped them track down and stop the abomination terrorizing Singer’s Rest, then he’d rely on it as much as he could.
Without warning, Julian suddenly jerked into motion, trundling through the snow away from town. Iggie opened his eyes and gave a tired grin. “I think that did the trick. Come on!”
Iggie darted through the snow after his undead. Alistair hurried to catch up, managing longer strides despite his armor thanks to the bolstering effect of his dawnflame. “You convinced Julian to lead us to the cave?” he asked once they were even.
Iggie’s smile faded. “Not exactly. I…I ordered him to take us to Matrim.”
Alistair fell silent at that. Thinking back over Iggie’s relation of Julian’s memories, he fixed on the moment Matrim had shoved Julian aside.
The action had likely saved Julian’s life at the cost of quickening the ritual’s collapse.
When faced with impending disaster, Matrim had put his lover’s safety before his own.
It lent his death a certain nobility, no matter the tragic circumstances surrounding it.
Whatever his other faults, he must’ve truly cared about Julian to have left such an impression on him, even in death.
Eventually, they reached a cave entrance half-concealed by fresh snowdrifts. Alistair held up a hand to halt them as Julian vanished within. “We don’t know what’s in there. It could be dangerous, especially if that creature is still lurking about.”
“Then, I suppose we better check it out. Together.”
Alistair considered insisting that Iggie wait out here, but the defiant look Iggie was giving him made it clear how well that would go over.
Besides, Iggie was the one with a direct line of communication to Julian.
Alistair might need his help to track the undead through the tunnels.
At least, if he’s with me, I can ensure he remains safe.
“Fine,” he replied. “But stay close.”
Holding his dawnflame-infused sword aloft, Alistair stepped carefully forward, Iggie right on his heels.
The cavern within was smaller than the one they’d stayed in during their return to Singer’s Rest—only a single chamber with no other visible branching paths.
Yet, he could tell at once that Julian had led them to the right place.
Iggie sucked in a breath and whirled away, trembling as he faced the cavern’s entrance.
Squeezing his shoulder as he passed, Alistair took in the four frozen corpses and the remnants of the ritual circle carved into the stone.
A quick survey of the room revealed scattered pages of notes, rendered mostly illegible by the elements, along with a tattered book caked in blood that must’ve been the tome Matrim stole from Erys.
While he performed his search, Julian hovered beside one of the frozen bodies.
Alistair paused beside it, looking down at what was left of Matrim.
Instead of hatred or anger, the mangled body filled him with pity.
Hadn’t Alistair himself sought a sort of validation via his work with the Order?
He might not agree with what Matrim had done, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t understand it.
The desire for recognition had driven countless people to make foolish mistakes.
Once he was certain he’d seen all he needed to, he returned to Iggie’s side, releasing his grip on his dawnflame and taking Iggie’s hand.
“Come on,” he said quietly. “Let’s get you out of here.”
Iggie exhaled, straightening his shoulders. “Don’t slack on your duties because of me. I can wait if there’s more you need to do. Or if you need my help to…to…”
He trailed off, and Alistair shook his head. “No, it’s all right.” He held up the salvaged notes and Erys’ tome. “I can’t make heads or tails of this, but I can see enough to tell it pertains to this ritual. Hopefully, Erys will be able to tell us more.”
“Should we…” Iggie swallowed, grimacing as he clenched his jaw. “Should we do something. With the bodies, I mean.”
Even now, the good-hearted necromancer couldn’t help but think of others.
Turning back to the corpses, Alistair’s expression hardened.
“We’ll let the town know where they can retrieve their dead.
For now, we need to return as soon as possible.
It’s time we relate what we’ve learned to the council and figure out how to stop what Matrim unwittingly conjured once and for all. ”