06: The Grimoire

“What do you mean they didn’t return yet? I was told that they were sent on an easy mission, just a fool of a Necromancer raising a couple of skeletons in the Maoa forest”

A tall, well-built man with an eyepatch spoke to a dwarf half his size standing behind a counter, a silver plate hung on his wide chest with “Hunters guild representative” engraved.

“The forest is a two-week trip from here Mr. Shnoot, and I’m pretty sure they will be fine, they were accompanied by Zyona Redmane after all, she one of the top B grade adventurers in the city, you know her well, right?” the dwarf jokingly winked at the man, who in turn, actually knew Zyona very well, she was the reason he stormed into the guild in the first place.

“Two more days, if they do not show up, I will be going there myself,” the big man palms slapped the wood of the counter. “And if something happened to her, if you gave her false information, I swear by the gods of the light, this guild will burn”

The old dwarf just snorted and turned back to some desk work, ignoring the ex-silver A rank red-haired adventurer bawling before him.

“Mary, take my place for a second” the dwarf shouted at a backroom, not bothering to look at the fuming Redmane before him.

The back door of the guild opened and the dwarf emerged with quick, stumpy steps, covering himself completely with a cape, like he was hiding from the air itself, or maybe just hiding the numerous tattoos that started to glow on his chest and arms, tattoos of pickaxes that was dormant for hundreds of years he forgot he even had them.

He stroked his long gray beard as he put down a book back on its pedestal with utmost care, he just received a whisper in the wind from one of his apprentices, their lair was under attack by a demon.

The man clenched his fist then released it, revealing a tiny eyeball emitting black smoke.

“Go, show me what happened” the man calmly ordered the eyeball, releasing it to float out of the room that hosted the cult’s ultimate treasure.

He sat back in his wooden chair which he didn’t leave for months, the man’s legs gave up on him decades ago.

Nearby, muffled screams could be heard every few minutes, one by one, the necromancers were ambushed by a small demon who just finished off his twelfth victim

The demon snuffed the last of the torches as he entered a room with a rancid smell that would put a manure to shame, it was the necromancers warehouse, where they stored raw materials, be it fresh or rotten, moving or not, everything was stored here for later use.

The warehouse was empty of the robed men, the two who were guarding it laid with holes in the back of their brains.

Tens of corpses hung from the ceiling, some were so fresh their muscles were still twitching, the demon walked, his feet leading him to the nearest living thing, he wanted the place for himself, so he needed to clean up the owners.

“Please!” A faint wheeze found its way the boy’s ears.

The demon followed the sound, and turned to find a woman, bruised from her missing toes to the tips of her red hair, she was hung upside down, her eye sockets still bleeding, it seemed that someone forcefully took the eyes out in a hurry.

He looked at her body, under the numerous cuts and dark patches, layers of lean muscles and old scars could be found, the woman was some sort of a warrior before.

“Pleasss..” the little power she had escaped before she finished her sentence.

Two naked bodies started to one another, one belonged to a woman few breaths away from death, the other belonged to the young demon who brutally killed most of the dwellers of this lair.

The boy stepped closer to the woman curious about the cuts on her body, few rot marks caught his attention, the skin was black as if that this particular patch belonged to a mummy.

“Please” she found some energy to repeat the plea, only to find total ignorance from the demon, who just poked her body, trying to figure out what kind of magic was able to wither the flesh like that.

He just read one book about basic magic, he had little understanding of how it works, and this piece of flesh before him was clearly touched by magic.

The demon took his time despite the woman pleas, clearly urging him to save her from the slow death, asking for a faster one, she tried to find any kindness in the heart of figure she sensed entering the room, but his heart was nothing but a pile of ash in a small pouch on his neck.

He turned to leave, the woman gave up with her pleas, but his feet stopped to a sound of a whimpering animal.

“You hungry?” he asked and got another disagreeing whimper as an answer.

“Fine” he annoyingly sighed, and without looking back at the woman hanging upside down behind him, swiped his tail.

Her head fell off with a clean cut, that only an enchanted sword could make, agony left her face, leaving only a featureless yet relaxed face.

“Happy now?” The demon shrugged with raised eyebrows, looking down at the midsection of his own body.

“Woof!” He got half a reply, the other half was in the form of a tongue shooting out from where his abdomen should be and licking his face profusely, of which the demon didn’t seem to mind.

The demon kept wandering into the lair, stealthy killing weak men in tattered robes, he wanted to clean up his new home as soon as possible, then sit down and flip the pages his spoils in peace.

He finally found the last of the rooms after sweeping the whole cavern system, a short, hooded man stood at the end of the room, his back to the demon, begging to join his colleagues, at least that was what tickled the demon’s mind.

“Thirty-one men, years of research, a home of knowledge, and you just stepped on that like you have no care in the world” the figure spoke as he turned around to face the demon, but in fact, this was no demon, he was but a mere boy, who just tilted his head at the babbling ancient man.

“Tell me you piece of filth, which level of hell spewed you? Who made a contract with you?” the man calmly spat at the boy for an answer he didn’t expect to get, and the boy wasn’t interested in a chatter anyway.

“Very well, let’s send you back to where you belong” the man raised his arm and started chanting, but the boy wasted no time and darted at the man.

Before he could reach him, the man finished his incantation, a fifty or so arms sprouted beneath the boy, grabbing his legs like a child holding his mother’s.

The hands were black from rot, a rot that started touching the boy, spreading slowly from his feet to the shins.

“Now, what’s that on your neck? A talisman?” the man asked as he approached the squirming boy, a longer hand emerged from below and snatched away the pouch from the boy’s neck, which seemed to have enraged him, indicated by his tail swinging at the old man.

“I sense no mana from this ash, why would I demon carry some ash?” the man asked as he sprinkled the boy’s mother in the air, which made the boy stop completely, his blue eyes darkened, and the maw opened to the maximum, revealing an endless hell decorated by countless teeth, even the necromancer took back a few steps, droplets of cold sweat forming all over his old body.

“Be careful not to stir the ashes, a lid to the seven hells below”

*ROOOOOOOAAAAARRRR*

A deafening roar shook the cave throwing the man back into the pedestal, his knees nearly gave up from fear, but years of experience helped it back up.

“T-Time to throw you back at the hell that bore you, you f-filth” the man nervously waved his hand, and the rot started moving rapidly, reaching the boy’s knees without any signs of stopping.

What the man didn’t know, is what stood before him, unmoving, blackening legs, an open hell mouth with an ear shattering roar, was someone who already rejected hell, and that ash he just wasted, was the only and the most precious item the boy had on him.

*ROOOOOOOAAAAARRRR*

The man fell on his knees, directing all his mana to the hands grabbing the boy, his instinct screamed to run, but the man was a prisoner of his own crippled legs.

“Marvelous”

“Truly marvelous”

“What a beautiful smell”

“Yes, this mana smells so nice”

“Shut up you all, let me enjoy”

“Come here boy...”

“You shut up!”

“I’m thirsty.”

“Look the boy is cutting his own legs”

“Hahaha, what a funny boy”

“Who’s that boy?”

“He looks exactly like...”

Voices came from behind the man, Voices the man and his cult worked day and night for thousands of years to hear a word from, but every single attempt to please the book made from what seemed to be human skin, failed.

The leather on the book twisted and turned, forming faces, tens, hundreds, thousands of faces, appearing and disappearing, smiling, frowning, moving under the skin of the book.

The gray eyes of the old necromancer bulged as utter shock took over him, looking at the babbling book, and the faces moving about under its covers with dropped jaw, not sure if he’s dreaming or this is his reality, his goal in life was finally achived, the book awakened.

“F-finally.” The man hissed as tears flowed from his eyes before calling out the book’s name.

“The Necronomicon”