V3Ch22-Ritual Preparation
Tybalt and his undead traveled deep underground.
In their company, they had the half-dead chaplain and two unconscious soldiers Stanislaw carried slung over his shoulders.
“We’ll need more space than we currently have,” Tybalt sent to Edgard, looking at the men Stanislaw was carrying. He thought he’d seen one of them twitch. Right now, the six of them were tightly packed together, which would be inconvenient when the soldiers they had kidnapped woke up.
“The more space we occupy, the more mana Underworld Motion uses,” the mummy replied.
“How much does it limit us?” Tybalt asked.
“Probably two hours if I give you generous room in which to act, master.”
“I won’t need that long. But if I did, that’s probably enough time for the Fort to somewhat lower its guard again.” He sent a silent order for Saoirse to stop singing and retreat to the shadows within Fort Hadrian. Like any spiritual undead, she could become invisible and intangible when needed.
They continued to descend deeper underground for several minutes before Tybalt ordered Edgard to stop. The men on Stanislaw’s shoulders had begun to move, and the former High Priest was occupied with restraining them.
Tybalt needed his full attention for the next part of their plan, which he wanted to execute before the chaplain finished dying.
Once they leveled off, Edgard expanded the area of free movement around them. Tybalt approached Stanislaw and signaled for him to put the men down.
“What are you do—” one of them began as he dropped onto the ground.
Tybalt cut him off with a punch to the jaw that knocked him out again.
“You’re dressed in one of our uniforms, aren’t you? Why are you attacking the Fort?” demanded the other.
“You don’t need to know,” Tybalt replied.
He reached over with Fleshcraft and pinched the man’s lips permanently shut.
As the soldier screamed through the flat expanse of skin where his mouth had been, Tybalt used Fleshcraft and Bonebreaker to snap off his arms and legs at the elbows and knees. He kept the man alive, not bleeding to death, just helpless.
I may need you as a sacrifice, the necromancer thought. Your discomfort won’t last too long.
Then he repeated the words aloud. They wouldn’t be comforting, exactly, but he would at least let the man know what he was in for.
The necromancer felt a little bad about using a random soldier that way; he had been a random soldier once. But the fates of the others in Fort Hadrian would not be any better, not with his present plan.
It’s a necessity of war.
Tybalt repeated the same actions with the other soldier and then the chaplain. He couldn’t afford to have that Purifying Light used on his undead. If Edgard was hit with that and destroyed, they would be buried alive. Tybalt could save himself using his Undying Transformation, but he’d rather not be forced to that last resort by a random cleric just because he got careless.
The necromancer also stanched the bleeding from the chaplain’s wounds to keep him alive a bit longer.
“Help me now, Stanislaw,” he said. The former High Priest nodded, and the two of them put their hands to the chaplain’s chest.
Together, the High Priest of Mudo and the former High Priest called upon the power of their god.
Corruption.
Divine chthonic power mingled with a trace of the casters’ mana and flowed into the victim’s body. The chaplain let out a loud moan of protest through his sealed mouth, instantly awake. He extended his stump, clearly trying to call on Purifying Light again, but with his wounds and the energies struggling inside his body, he lacked the focus to succeed.
Then the three engaged in an energy tug of war. The chaplain and his god or goddess - Tybalt couldn’t tell, in the moment, if it was Vika or Astara - wrestled against the two High Priests of Mudo and the Death God. The chaplain fought with all his might, knowing his soul was at stake.
But it was never truly a battle. Not between two High Priests and some random chaplain, no matter how devout. Tybalt felt the moment when the resistance shattered. At the same time, the life left the chaplain’s body.
“We corrupted him,” the necromancer noted with satisfaction. “To death.”
“What next, master?” asked Stanislaw. “Do you wish to raise him here?”
“That was the plan, but I’m having second thoughts,” Tybalt said. “A corrupted priest of the enemy is so valuable, I have to be careful how I use him.” He gestured at the two soldiers. “Perhaps two sacrifices isn’t enough to make optimal use.”
“You could make him a part of the other ritual we have planned,” Stanislaw suggested.
“Yes,” Tybalt agreed. “And one more thing.” He looked at Edgard. “Maintain this position and the size of this space. I’ll return in a few minutes.”
The mummy simply nodded.
Tybalt teleported away. He almost had a full handle on it now, but it still took far more energy than he’d have liked. It would never be practical for him to use it in battle, only as a method to travel long distances or run away from a fight.
He reappeared just outside Humun and hailed the guards.
They knew who he was by now and therefore let him in.
He quickly made his way to the Mayor’s house, where his family was staying - except Kistana and Mariella, who were on the hunt for the bandits. He moved silently through the halls - or so he thought.
Dero appeared around a corner, dropping her invisibility power.
“It’s just you,” she said with a sigh. “You could try knocking or announcing your presence. You left me here with your other fiancees in this town that has probably dozens of people who consider themselves your secret enemies. That’s how it always is with conquerors. I was about ready to take your head off.”
“I appreciate that you didn’t,” Tybalt replied.
“I’m much better as an assassin than a babysitter,” Dero said. “But you can’t sneak into a place where I’m sleeping without me noticing.” She flicked one finger over the pointed tip of one ear. “Not without magical help, anyway.”
“I miss when you didn’t know about the chthonic mages’ powers,” he said, smiling.
“Weren’t you storming a fortress or something?” she asked. “I’m surprised you’re back already. What, did you get horny?”
“No! I’m here to get Victoria. I want her to pray over a body and give it some extra… divine power.”
“Just for that, huh?” She raised an eyebrow.
“Yes!”
Not that it would be any of your business if I was going to do other stuff with her…
“Well, you know where she’s sleeping.” She smirked as if she thought Tybalt was going to do more than just pray with Victoria. He shook his head and advanced to the foxgirls’ room.
They often slept in the same bed when it wasn’t Vidalia’s night with Tybalt, and he found them that way tonight.
Vidalia lay with bedclothes askew, her top raised to show her entire bare midriff, as if she had expected Tybalt to come in and look at her and she wanted to show off her body. Victoria slept on her side, resting more normally.
Tybalt clapped a hand over her mouth, and she instantly jerked awake.
“Shh,” he whispered in her ear. “It’s me. I need you. Will you be quiet?”
When she nodded, he removed his hand.
“You need me tonight?” Victoria asked. She looked slightly nervous.
“Yeah, I need you to pray over a dead body,” Tybalt said. “He was a priest. I think he’ll make a powerful undead.”
“Oh, of course.” She nodded, but there was a trace of disappointment in her eyes. “Just let me get dressed, and I’ll go with you.”
“Sure.” Tybalt stood back as she rose from the bed, her night clothes clinging to her delicate curves.
“Are you going to leave while I…?” she asked quietly.
“Do you want me to?” he whispered back.
She blushed, said nothing in response, but simply stripped down to her underwear and then put on one of her simple dresses. She did everything with quick, efficient movements, not trying to draw out the partial nudity, but she also not trying to hide anything from him.
Her bare, flat stomach and long legs drew his eyes. He suppressed a little noise of disappointment once the dress was actually in place.
Victoria placed a hand on his forearm as she finished.
“Let’s go,” she said.
Tybalt leaned in and gave her a long, elven style kiss.
“Couldn’t resist,” he said. “You look great without your clothes. I need to get you and Vidalia some new underwear. The better to enjoy you with.”
“Regardless of what I say, I know you’ll do whatever you want,” she replied, but she was blushing and smiling from ear to ear as she spoke. She had loosened up a bit since the quasi-orgy, Tybalt had noticed. She was growing more comfortable with sexuality.
He led her out of the town and then, once they were through the gates, he teleported them to where he had left the mummies.
The necromancer’s sense of his creatures’ locations was only growing more precise as he grew more powerful, and it was to the point, now, that he could confidently teleport to where he’d left them using their own energy as a guidepost.
He still found himself breathing heavily when they arrived, though.
I don’t know how Dero does this so much.
Victoria set to work praying over the late chaplain, while Tybalt sent Saoirse back out, invisible, to check on Fort Hadrian.
It looks like command has doubled the number of guards on patrol, but the fortress is mostly back to sleep, Tybalt thought.
They had someone stationed at each entrance to the barracks rooms and officers’ rooms, too, with the doors open, to quickly catch any further assassination attempts in progress.
But that didn’t matter to Tybalt.
“We’re able to move to the next phase of the plan,” the necromancer said, smiling.
One key area of Fort Hadrian remained entirely unguarded.
Edgard began moving them again, heading toward that patch of holy ground that the three had avoided when they first infiltrated the fortress. It would have damaged the undead, before, or any effort to corrupt it and avoid that damage would have risked alerting the chaplain.
Different types of holy energy that were unfriendly to each other had a way of creating friction that was difficult to miss when they clashed. But only if you operated on that wavelength.
To normal mages, a clash between two types of holy energy would only be as noticeable as whatever amounts of mana were used on each side.
With Corruption, the energy employed was almost entirely divine.
As they drew near the holy ground, Stanislaw and Tybalt both reached out through their connection to Lord Mudo and used Corruption again. This time, they aimed to turn the holy ground into a nexus of chthonic power.
This took less time and force of will than corrupting the chaplain had. The ground here had likely been consecrated centuries before, and its connection to the divine had probably not been refreshed in decades or centuries.
Using two people to turn it to the chthonic was overkill. But Tybalt had Stanislaw there with him, and the former High Priest was truly needed for the final part of the plan, so why not employ him for the earlier components?
In a minute, Fort Hadrian’s crypt had become a place affiliated with Lord Mudo’s energy. Primed for necromancy and other chthonic arts.
Then Edgard took them up through the foundation, into the dark, musty space of the crypt, full of old bones and fresh corpses alike.
While Victoria continued to pray over the chaplain, Tybalt set to work.