Under the darkness of night, the landscape glowed scarlet in shades and creases under his metamorphosing eyesight enabling him to pick out the stones and gullies, while crossing the Cleft. A broad smile on his thin dark lips, blood stained after practising his craft, each arduous step one more towards his goal and his journey’s end. The increase in his necromantic skill granted boons, but resulted in sacrifices of other capabilities, for him his sight when the accursed sun rose.

His mind nudged his two servants to change direction slightly, a correction. They obeyed without protest. The black bear, tuffs of fur missing, a hole in his chest where perhaps a spear thrust stuck him, partially rotting away before his craft arrested the affliction, granting the animal corpse new existence and purpose, his greatest achievement. The hole allowing him to observe the way ahead in complete cover, perhaps the spear carrier thrust up slightly.

Animation of animal corpses would provide additional servants and would be unexpected and naturally identified as an animal in the dark until they closed upon their victim. He needed to experiment with horses next to determine if animated they could be ridden. His other servant a burly farmer hand, a youth really, now with a whole new un-life before him, he snickered to himself appreciating his own macabre humour. A simple effort to reanimate being a fresh corpse, one which from a distance, could pass for ‘normal’. Perhaps the illusion would play out better if a dog escorted him considered his devious mind. A young farmer and a bear an unusual sight, escorting each other.

Both laboured effortlessly and tirelessly for their master, ploughing through knee height snow, shuffling their legs to push and roll the snow to the side. A modest pathway created, a furrow and stamped snow underfoot allowing their almost human creator an easier passage. No point in having servants if they couldn’t be useful. The cold pierced his clothing, wind chill insinuating itself past the thick fur coat he acquired especially for this expedition, arms folded, and hood drawn seemingly futile gestures as he shivered. He did succeed to ensure his feet remained warm and dry. Fur topped high boots and double thick woollen socks defeating the cold and the wet; not making the same mistake as last season! Lamenting the loss of two toes to frostbite.

Another three servants, all males, all ancient warriors followed him carrying his goods and chattels to his new abode. He acquired ring mail, shields and spears for his protectors, unfortunately their ineptness with spears suggested they were swordsmen in their past lives. To acquire swords too troublesome, therefore he equipped them with spears. After much practice wielding his three servants with his mind, he could co-ordinate them as one. Another extraordinary achievement, even if his own opinion.

The middle warrior servant carried his most precious chattel inside a huge rug, which served two purposes, restraining the chattel with each end of the rug bound tight and providing a warm comfortable rug for the cavern, which loomed ever closer. His mind accidently discovered a third purpose, eliciting a manic laugh when he did; it kept the imprisoned chattel warm and alive, although not entirely required this close to his destination.

The Necromaster needed to beat the dawn as sunlight hurt his eyes, still he paused to check the fertile ground he walked upon. His servants ordered to walk at his pace now stopping when he stopped. Assuming a cross-legged sitting position, his tongue wrapping around the red iron tasting blood as it drained from the vial in his hand, he drew the life energy from it. Dropping the vial his claw like fingernails pierced the frozen ground and his will, now empowered searched for the ancient dead. Countless soldiers in an ancient time fought and died in this Cleft, this short-cut, which proved wonderfully fatal to many.

None answered. A field of thousands! Difficult to believe the field exhausted since last Death Season. He grunted and spat, craning his head about pointlessly searching for someone or something to blame. While only his second year permitted here, he knew the site existed for many years prior and now possibly exhausted by the many practitioners travelling this path and trying to summon from this ancient battlefield? Inconceivable. Therefore, the simplest explanation, no dead remained to be summoned; he shook his head in denial, his body slumping.

With dawn approaching he didn’t have time to explore a different patch of the battlefield to test his theory, so perhaps tomorrow, once settled. The usual treasure-trove of potential servants gone; he swore, berating his creatures. He stopped his tirade and his marrow froze as another theory gripped him, perhaps they were sealed against him, yes sealed, too many to have been consumed, which would be clearly impossible. So, conceivably another has risen to rival his own skill and powers, intriguing. A competitor, a conspirator or a mentor?

He sprang to his feet, keen to discover this rival, taking a couple of steps and immediately bumping into his two servants in front of him, shaking his hands and cursing once again. Waiting, his servants finally ‘awoke’, and mirror stepped the two steps he took or shuffled as instructed. He poised his leg up, ready for his next step and checking, his five servants registered the movements with their own interpretations, finally taking a step when he did. ‘When I step you step’ he willed to his servants, how difficult can it be? How he yearned for superior thinking living dead, retention of their former mind twisted by pain and torment, bent to his will. He drooled. The wind chill freezing his fluid dribble across his face, instinctively he wiped his saliva with his fur gloved hand, ruing the cold and the snow, fumbling to draw his hood tighter.

He hurried, pre-dawn upon him until he crashed into his two lead servants once again. They fruitlessly shuffled into and over the scree making little progress because of the loose stones. He sighed and commanded them directly. Oh, for intelligent living dead he silently mouthed. They halted immediately, then turned until their master aimed them to walk beside the scree, not on the scree. The reality, his creatures couldn’t identify the loose stone and therefore their master needed to be more attentive to them. The loose stone meant they reached the vicinity of the Cavern, so not long now and some warmth awaited him. For several moments he rapidly clapped his gloved hands together, childlike.

No light guided anyone to the Cavern entrance; it needed to be found each and every time, at night best, the memorising of the pattern of shade and creases on this side of the Spur possible. The shadow cast by the Spur from the dawn sun adding to the mix, blurring the pattern he attempted to scan for.

“Crap!”

He was much better at seeing the living, their life blood pumping through them and their body heat glistening in his eyes. His servants he ‘knew’ by their unnatural link to him. To say he could see them though was an exaggeration, unless they were immediately before him when the remnants of his human sight, aided by a glimmer of light could discern them. Any bright light would blur his vision and hurt his night sensitive eyes.

Dawn surrounded him, although the deep shadow of the Spur protected him from the worst when he discovered the Cavern Entrance by relentlessly following the scree. A warm creased sliver on one side and a solid radiation of warmth on the other. He identified this as the lead in, the aligned gap between an outer covering wall and the face of the Spur forming a channel to lead any traveller who knew to the actual entrance of the cavern carved into Spur.

He took a moment to call a halt to his servants. Throwing his head back, the whites of his eyes dominating he raised his level of consciousness. When ready he spread his arms, reaching with his fingers calling to the past, especially towards the Cavern Entrance. If any recent deaths occurred and their bodies remained, they would ‘talk’ to him, like inspecting a dead body and determining the nature of its death, how long ago, without needing to stand over each body one at a time. He sensed no recent corpses although many passive corpses, their deaths too far in the past, although ideal to summon and experiment upon. All is not lost then; he sucked his drool back in this time. He toyed with the idea of summoning a number to demonstrate his skill, although if whomever he was due to relieve managed to lock the battlefield dead from him, he or she could possibly take offense and lock these toys away from him or worse.

Eager to settle in and commence his posting he hastened to the Cavern Entrance; he needed to know what happened to the battlefield corpses and which of the detected corpses were his to play with. Supplied with so many dead last Season he frolicked amongst them, experiment upon experiment almost wasteful, which he now regretted. He barely noted the extra wagon, thinking it odd but not unusual given the changes he noted so far. The stacked supply of bodies drew him, the single reason anyone of his skill would request to serve here in the first place! Skulking around towns and villages for bodies always so tiresome and time consuming. An exception existed of course, if their scent carried on the wind, like his current prize.

He rushed past his slow servants to gain entrance and turned left expecting to see his fellow practitioner, he needed to ask so many questions. There was no one there.

“Curse living bones!” he swore into the darkness of the cavern.

He silently mouthed, “The sleeping hollow.” Surely there, and he strode swiftly to the resting place of many before him, peering in. Empty. The current incumbent or his body nowhere to be found, no possibility to chat with him, alive or dead. He turned as his five servants finally entered the cavern, so he halted them beside him. An unusual smell reached his nostrils, stink, somewhat familiar, faeces, oh horse manure! Then braying followed by nervous clopping, obviously fearful of his servants. What were horses doing here? Where they special? To the Necromaster horses and their possible differences meant little, perhaps after their deaths a little research and experimentation will clarify their presence.

He heard the twang and reacted immediately, fading from the corporeal to the non-corporeal, the last of the blood life energy exhausted and the arrow intended to slay him passed through his chest harmlessly. He swivelled on the spot and noticed two warm live breathing bodies in the entrance way to the passage leading further up into the Spur. One was urging the other to action it seemed. His servants were already advancing on them, a simple command, a moment’s thought, place everything down and attack.

As his five creations passed him by, he stepped into the fifth, the farm hand, a non-threatening decoy. The huge black bear would draw the attention of most, while the three warriors would distract others. The cavern filled with light and although non-corporeal and in the shadow of his servants his sight still suffered. He kept in time with his servant, knowing the harmless boy advanced toward his attackers as commanded. Abruptly he sensed his servant disconnect from him as a spear point appeared in front of his non-corporal face, the wooden point having impaled his servant from behind passing straight through its head. A well-placed thrust, following the spine to the base of the skull and bursting out an eye socket, corrupted brain skewered. Wooden point? Another mystery, which he would soon solve once proper control and former ownership returned to the Caverns of the Spur.

The owner of the spear slashed a couple of times at him and realising the futility, stepped around and thrust her spear at another of his servants. A her? Delightful! Surprise time for you my dear he thought. The three living dead warriors about faced and struck at the farm boy’s assassin. The huge black bear he called a halt to, lurching over the passage way opening, ready to strike. The assassin stabbed as his warriors swivelled and her spear impaled one in the top of its leg below its ring mail. The ancient warrior fell to one side, his bone shattered, still reaching with its spear and shield to attack, the remaining leg pushing to close the distance. His other two ancient warriors pressed onwards, forcing the assassin to cowardly hide behind her shield.

He could leave the cavern, although dawn sunlight would see him revealed or he could head further into the cavern to the now, unknown. Alternatively, he could reveal himself and mend his pet to ensure the single female is surrounded and captured, although if not, her death would be useful, nevertheless. Revealed he could also summon living dead from the pile, although without weapons they would be mere spear fodder, destroyed by greater reach.

His servants he could replace, better to explore and find out as much as possible about the uninvited occupiers of the caverns. Striding through the side of the cavern, stepping up within the stone he tried to estimate the level of the passageway which he walked many times in the past. He chortled to himself as his head sprouted through the floor of the passageway. Three females were poised, clearly uncertain of what to do at the passageway exit into the cavern. His beast waited for them if they advanced any further. Satisfied, he climbed up through the floor and once upon the passageway floor proper continued his exploration and rediscovery, the next passageway switchback familiar. With the confidence of immunity, he advanced into the cavern.

Whatever he expected, the sight before him rocked him back on his non-corporeal heels and caused his mouth to gape and slowly close. The gentle indirect lantern light on his shadowy eyes in easy agreement with his condition allowing him to savour the scene unfolding before him. Several beds, semi-naked females throwing back covers and reaching for arms and armour. Others more advanced in their preparations, armour strapped on, weapons in hand advancing towards the passageway. Their activity making their hearts beat and their pulses race. Furrowed brow, eye lids fluttering, the sweet iron smell of blood; fresh and hot, he breathed in the delightful liquid feast. He needed to control his excitement, wondering if joyful urination in non-corporeal form, the loss of control counted as a mishap, such his delirium. Virginal blood, not only one, several. Several! Beyond a feast, a banquet fit for the likes of him to secure unlimited raging power; his advancement and his supremacy over the living dead. Fate collected his future years of research in the one cavern!

Warm live armoured bodies hastening to an unknown alarm, sprinting towards him, stop dead in their strides as the lantern light they carry reveals something vague, ghostly perhaps, but beyond dispute a human shaped outline before them. He delights in their surprise and hesitation; yes, I would be something you wouldn’t have seen before, that is for certain! While observing them, the thing he notices, they are brave, recovering quickly they harmlessly strike at him with their weapons and don’t run away.

In his profession, to discern the blood of virgins regardless of practitioner’s form, the single most critical and mandatory sensory skill, much like listening and sniffing to an assassin. He accepted the favour willingly, one of the females playing warrior before him bled, unexpected, although the chance high with the number of delectable candidates before him. Her blood’s aroma freed from her body, floating, held up in the humid and stale atmosphere of the cavern. The euphoria overpowering, his senses attuned to draw and detect from within the body, her precious blood exposed to air around him and within the non-corporeal form infuse his being. Virginal blood in the air he would detect with little effort from twenty paces, possibly further with a favourable wind. At five paces he savoured the delicacy like a fine wine. Mid-twenties, perhaps twenty-five, pure maiden. He choked then, his heart stopped, and he needed to reach inside his disembodied form to squeeze his life pump back to rhythm. Slowly shaking his head from side to side, mouth wide open he needed to exercise self-control upon his loins to prevent leakage.

Crying tears of joy, his tear ducts remembering how with difficulty, his ethereal hands reached out to her. Not appreciating his devotion, she adroitly dodged away from his ghostly grasp. Her action encouraging him to step after her, ignoring the multitude of spears, swords and daggers waving through his non-corporeal form. Chasing after his Virgin Seer, he tasted the air she passed through, not Single Seer! The order of power within her blood for him to create and bind the dead heady and he wanted her, no he demanded her. A splash of her sweat passed through his non-corporeal form as he gave chase, a tease, he needed fresh blood from her. One drop, a sample to confirm his wildest dreams. He snickered, he would use her blood scent to stalk and consume her distraught twin sister trying to recover from her loss, hopefully a runaway, easy Seer blood. Her pretend warrior sisters still waved their weapons, while others assisted her to remove her armour. Strange? He paused in his chase to observe and draw in more of her delectable blood scent.

His servant’s links dissolved, which he ignored imagining greater future possibilities. Aware his current non-corporeal state would expire shortly, he waited nevertheless, a few more moments he told himself, fixated. The wise choice, to run through a cavern wall now, time being of the essence. He would need to estimate the position of the other entrance, beyond the wagon, so he could hide from the sunlight and perhaps from his attackers until nightfall, and then return to his feast. Yes, decided, beginning to turn away, and then he became distracted by the most glorious gift.

---

At change of shift Alexis spied the unusual shuffling caravan approach the Stone Curtain Wall and stop a distance away.

“Niobe, you and Agape run to the passageway immediately, something strange approaches. Alert Astera and Thyia,” sent Alexis.

“Hagne, don’t relax, keep your armour on and your weapons close, advise those on your shift to do likewise, while I study those taking an interest in us,” sent Alexis.

“Thank-you sister, when could you Seer Contact into the Inner Cavern?”

“Just then, I just tried …”

“Protect Niobe and Agape, I will lurk in the Priest’s robes behind the horses and strike from surprise,” commanded Astera.

Thyia hesitated until Astera placed a hand on each of her shoulders. “Alexis will join me as soon as she can, we cannot allow these strangers to leave the Main Cavern.”

Thyia sprinted to catch up to Niobe and Thyia, while Astera positioned herself amongst the horses, calming them to her presence.

When the black bear and the three-warrior living dead charged towards the passageway, Astera thanked Judge for her decision. When Agape’s quarrel targeted the fur coated Priest, Astera scampered forward to strike his least armoured servant for a quick kill to reduce the number of opponents. The Priest seemed to meld with his servant and Astera beyond hope, wished for both to die under her one strike. Destroying the farm hand living dead, Astera discovered the ghost of the evil priest immune. Her spear useless against him she attacked the warrior living dead, making one lame and then retreating before the charge of the other two. Parrying with shield and spear. She almost froze when the apparition of the evil priest eased through the cavern’s stone wall, fearing he may attack her sisters in the passageway and unable to warn them, needing to trust they would stay alert.

Astera retreated around the Main Cavern playing for time. Alexis in assassin mode crept through the Cavern Entrance and stabbed one warrior living dead in the gap between his helm and ring mail destroying him. Astera position the other, pushing it off balance with a shield bash, an easy target for Alexis to destroy. The black bear seemed fixated on the Main Cavern exit to the passageway. Astera approached quietly and utilising the length of her spear, charged the final ten paces driving the fire hardened wooden point into the back of its brain cavity. The bear’s height allowing Astera to aim upwards and miss the bone of its skull. Alexis finished off the crawling warrior living dead and advised Niobe of the all clear.

Astera ordered Alexis to resume her post in case further visitors decided to arrive unannounced. Astera, Thyia, Agape and Niobe advanced in formation on the Inner Cavern.

---

The night shift sprinted to the Inner Cavern warned by Alexis and proceeded to wake and warn the evening shift. Once awake Charis agreed with Nysa they needed to return to the Main Cavern, the evening shift would armour and arm in the meanwhile as reinforcements. That changed when an apparition appeared before them. Nysa and Kyra halting their run to strike at the intruder, their efforts fruitless. Joined shortly by Hagne. Alcmene and Otonia sprinting back to assist Charis and the evening shift into their armour.

Charis stood idle, while Otonia continued to dress her Mistress in her armour. Charis amused and confused observing an unusual sight.

“Hagne, it has singled you out, reaching for you.”

“Yes, Mistress and his ghostly features can’t conceal his eagerness and desire.”

“Why single you out? Why are you different at this time?”

“I am a Seer Mistress, although perhaps, well, I also bleed Mistress.”

“Quickly retreat, sprint sister and peel down your leather armour, I will send Helice, Korinna and Alcmene to assist, while the ghost lurches after you,” sent Charis.

“Otonia, ready your knives, I was told once they could kill anything. Circle behind him as Hagne draws him towards her, when he stills strike precisely for his heart, you shouldn’t need to rush, and you shouldn’t fear his attack. Nysa, Kyra, Dirce and Drosis are putting on a show, while Hagne will tempt him.”

Moments passed, the apparition paused, transfixed by Hagne’s activity. Korinna and Helice on either side of her slit her leather pants and peeled them down to reveal her loin cloth, then cut her loin cloth free for Hagne to bundle, unafraid of her own blood.

“I am ready Mistress.”

“Throw the bundle high so he needs to look up, accurate so he remains still.”

The throw perfect, the apparition transfixed.

---

Her bloody rag, a most stupendous and magnificent gift thrown, curving neatly towards him, the accuracy perfect, no need to move except to lean his head back and appreciate the approaching scent. Standing transfixed by the promise of the bloody delight passing through his non-corporeal face, the follow through rewarding him further, the angle allowing his heart to be caressed by her blooded gift. Time slowed, his analysis continued, not a Twin, not a Triple, more! How is the impossible, possible! Her blood connections, linked to the Seer Skill of ten others, no eleven, twelve … his ghostly form rigid, his clenched fists raised high upon his extended arms! The magnitude of power unique, worldly unique, all of time unique, the bindings, the spirit callings, the servants, discovery of living dead beyond known possibilities, never dreamt of let alone researched, unlimited potential. His! All His!

The cut … felt real, he blinked. His mind couldn’t comprehend the enormity of his discovery and the possibility a weapon could strike his non-corporeal form. Stabbing pain, the slice parting his non-corporeal skin, the flesh beneath incised. No, NO! Why now on the crux of his future glory and power? His head cranes behind him. Her round face surrounded by light brown hair, her pale green eyes reflecting no mercy, no negotiation. Her blood isn’t virginal, her buxom breasts too much temptation for base men most likely. Her weapon, a slim metal dagger, the weapon of his death lances his heart, the sharpness of the cut eliciting no pain. He regrets his last memory, non-virginal blood and isn’t conscious to note a second knife now penetrating his brain.

---

Otonia struck without haste, pushing her knife slowly unsure of the level of resistance, impaling his heart, her second knife targeting under the skull, following his spine into his brain. Before the second strike finished the apparition solidified into a perfect human replica. Eyes sunken back, pallid skin enclosing wasted muscles, his black hair, slick with an oily substance, his fur cloak more substantial than his dead body.

Otonia withdrew her knifes. She then effortlessly cut through his now fully revealed neck to sever his head from his body to be certain of his everlasting death. With help she loaded him on one of the twin’s trolleys, placing his detached head upon his chest for the journey to the Main Cavern.

The sisters stared for a moment and then at Charis’ urging they followed Otonia to the Main Cavern. With many sisters in attendance and those not present Seer linked, Charis spoke.

“Congratulations Daughters of the Duchess an evil destroyed and repelled from our new residence.”

A cheer went up, not full throated and boisterous, an awareness of ever-present danger tempering their reaction, with several turning to hug the sister standing beside them. As the cheer died away, Charis paused for affect, ensuring all eyes were upon her.

“The evil lusted after virgin blood, perhaps, drawn to Seer’s virginal blood. Under no circumstances will any virgin blessed sister who is bleeding sleep or be on duty in the Main Cavern, the Inner Cavern, or on the Stone Curtain Wall. The Evil Priest we slew, disregarded his surroundings, transfixed pursuing his bloody prize. The only reason a man would do that is for the promise of power. Otonia able to calmly approach him from behind and impale his heart.”

Charis eyeing each of the Daughters of the Duchess to ensure they acknowledged the command and understood another risk they needed to face. Evil men now coveted their virginal blood.

“Everyday we need to also fish out the driest of the corpses and fire them on a pyre in the Main Cavern while the sun is out, burn them hot with good honest wood and pray the smoke doesn’t attract any visitors. Most it seems, during Death Season, like to visit at night or pre-dawn.”

Otonia tipped her offering off the mini wagon on to the blood-stained stone floor near the Priest’s stone bed cavity. The night shift, particularly Hagne were excused to partake of a meal in the House, bathe and then sleep. The day shift resumed their posts. The evening shift busy, selecting suitable corpses, including their visitor's to add to Otonia’s pyre and gather pick handles.

Dirce motioned to Drosis to pick up the other end of the rug. The plan, to add it to the pyre. The other treasures deposited by the Evil Priest not of any value and already added so cleansing fire could vanquish any evil taint.

The rug moved as they lifted it, which caused them to promptly drop it. A muffled yelp the response. Dirce and Drosis stepped away, not really knowing what to expect. Otonia looked to them and weapons ready she stepped forwards and using her knives quickly cut the ropes at either end holding the rolled rug. Freed at last, the thick deep pile rug unfurled.

A naked arm and leg were joined to a naked body as the last roll of the rug flung open. A young girl struggling to be free of its confines, with hands and feet bound, mouth gagged. Behind the gag she screamed and protested.