Chapter 26: 19: Furies of the Old and Unseen
They exited through the north wing and went through the east, all the way to the door outside. As they stepped out, an acre wide garden greeted them, matching any royal backyard William had seen in his life. Waist height bushes with flowers colored in different shades of red lined the roads and paved the paths for black stone floors. Statues of horned and winged beasts stood on pivotal points of the garden standing on guard. And at the corner was a three tier fountain spouting a red thick liquid.
Vlad stopped at the middle of the plaza, at the center of crossroads of the garden's roads. "This is the undead's garden. You can rest in this place, but usually this part of the house is used for practice."
"Practice for…" William's eyes went to the skies as three dark figures floated above and started to descend.
As the figures neared the ground, they began taking shape. Clothed in straps of black leather to give a spare illusion of decency, they were women—at least in body shape and face. But the rest, animalistic features. They had bat wings on their backs, ears and on their ankles that kept them afloat. They had a tail of a panther and claws on their four fingered hands and talons for feet. And their eyes were that of a cat, glowing brightly in contrast with their pale lavender skin.
When their feet touched earth, Vlad announced, "These are the furies. Feone, Fetwo and Fetres. They are one of the guardian spirits in the forest. They come by every time someone comes in the garden to train."
"To train?" asked William with an unsteady voice.
"Indeed. Train," he answered. "The Furies lend a hand on facilitating my training and also our Lord's when he gets bored."
"But I thought necromancers weren't warriors. In the history books, during the First War, they were behind the battles, summoning bone minions to help turn the tide."
��And they still are, wise of you to remember," commented Vlad. "But it is important to train ourselves for practical application and unexpected situations. Just because you memorized a spell doesn't mean you can cast it at the right time or for the right moment."
"Am I supposed to fight them?" asked William.
"No. Not yet. Not until you can get a hang of controlling a minion," he commanded. "Go ahead and bring one up. And I want you to make him walk from where you are to there." He pointed to the end of the garden—at a wall with a bull statue.
He took his dagger, slashed his arm until blood let out and dripped onto a square stone. He drew a pentagram on the ground with his blood while he whispered the spell to cast a bone soldier he had just decided on. Bone soldiers weren't particularly strong, but they were formidable enough to fend off a normal attack—and calling them didn't necessarily require a lot of blood. When he had finished, he pressed the diagram on the stone and breathed out, feeling a wriggling sensation under his skin.
As the earth in front of him made a mild tremor, he felt himself extending out from his body and into the ground where it shook. And then, like a snap, he sensed a connection, like chains, binding himself with whatever was moving beneath. From the cracks below, two bone hands extended up and pulled its whole being out in the open. A dwarf with a hunched back stood beside its master awaiting orders—a bone ghoul, the lowest kind of minion there ever was.
"Okay, I do admit I was expecting something grander, but that will do," said Vlad, who was leaning on a Fury's shoulder. "Now tell it to get to the wall."
His brows knitted. "Should I tell it to walk? Or should I—" The moment he thought it should walk, the minion strode over where the wall was, touched the surface with its brittle hands and came back to where it started.
"Oh, that was pretty fast. And it came back too, pretty neat trick," commented Vlad. "Now summon a soldier and let it do as the other did."
William got down on his knees again and bled his already open wound even further. He whispered the same incantation and when he was done, a link formed again from him to the second minion surfacing, feeling like there were two leashes strapped on his body. The minion surfaced and his face despaired; another ghoul waited for its orders.
"William, not everyone succeeds on their first try. Remember your lessons" instructed Vlad.
He thought back on the books he had read and about the basics of necromancy. He learned that there were always two factors that affected any spell or summoning; they were the soul and the blood. The soul was the guide, the control. A necromancer's soul was the direction spells took; it guided where the necromancer's will was; it harnessed it; it took it through. William noted he didn't have trouble controlling the ghoul, since it moved quickly the way he wanted to. So the trouble was blood? Blood was power, after all. In order to bring something more powerful it required more blood. So William gave more of his blood. He slashed another wound on his other arm and let it.
When the blood was almost forming a pool, he started drawing the diagram for the summoning and murmuring the words of the spell. At the moment he had finished, a third connection bound itself on his soul and a minion unearthed. With a bone sword and a shield, a bone soldier stood with a vacant look, awaiting its master's orders.
Vlad clapped joyously. "Very good William. You summoned your very first bone soldier."
A grin crept to William's face while he stood; but then his knees buckled and he felt light headed. Just as he fell to the side, his ghoul caught him by the shoulder and steadied him.
"First lesson of necromancy: Never use your own blood," he firmly stated. "If you can avoid it William, never use it. We need our blood to move and live. If we sacrifice too much of our own, we would kill ourselves first before we even taste victory."
"Then how am I…"
"You do see the fountain over there?" As William nodded, Vlad continued, "That is the blood of humans who have died. Use the blood of the dead, for they are free and they have no need for it."
"What of the living?"
"You may use them, if they're willing," he smiled. "Or if not, take it by force."
He pressed the shoulder of his bone soldier and stood straight, leaning slightly. "And what of a necromancer's…living or dead?"
He put his hands on his back and walked closer to him. "A warning, a necromancer's blood is the most powerful tool of necromancy. A drop's energy is as potent as four of a human's blood. That is why we save our own blood when we most need it. And sacrifice our own, after we have sacrificed others. And do take note; we are the least populous race. Our kind doesn't involve itself much in the ways of procreation. But we do enjoy the practice."
"Why not?" he found himself asking, dumbfounded.
"Why do you think? We are the sons of Death. Why involve ourselves with acts of life? When we know as soon as we see it come forth, our patience to grant it a sweet death thins. Because sometimes the temptation to devour our kin's blood denies our wishes to see him grow." A smile appeared on his face unlike anything what William had seen before. It was bolder, more cunning…cruel.
"Any more questions?" asked Vlad.
William wanted to ask why his blood didn't do as much as he had hoped if a necromancer's blood was four times as great as humans. It felt odd and illogical. But what came out of his lips was, "No."
"Then we'll continue. I'd like all three minions to run around the perimeter and back," he ordered with a gracious smile—a mask over the malice William saw earlier.
He brushed his doubts aside, breathed deeply and started again.
CREATORS' THOUGHTS 
Emi_Ozner
Emi_Ozner For more stories:
http://www.SubscribeStar.com/EmiOzner
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone