The Nekromancer - 70. Chapter 70

Every step he took felt wrong. Jakun felt like a pale imitation of himself, like everything that made him himself was locked away to a place he couldn’t reach.

Death had been instantaneous, and life was no different. As soon as he fell to the necrotic energy, his phylactery had started working, a new corpse created for his mind to inhabit. Entering the body had seemed to take no longer than a blink of an eye, but according to a self turning timepiece, Jakun had been dead for five whole days to the outside world. It had taken a while for him to recover, the body needing time to respond to his desires, but the corpse was a near perfect simulacrum of his old body, with a slight decomposition issue that was easily dealt with through a minor shaping spell. There would be no issues with extra decomposition while he was in this body.

His time with Mythara had a very illuminating time, filling his tomes with spells, and Jakun was grateful for all the tools he had picked up. The lich had his workbook in his phylactery, in case he needed emergency spells. It seemed his gear would not be remade by the phylactery, as his corpse had been nude when reformed. Storing a few items in his phylactery would help keep him prepared in the rare occasion that he was killed. But Jakun had a more urgent task at hand.

Anya had been taken, trapped somewhere he could not find her. The necromantic tome, once a tool to steal his soul, had become inert once Anya had fed its twisted purpose. There was only one person who could tell Jakun how to get Anya back, and she would not be happy to see him. But it didn’t matter; he needed to get Anya back, needed to prove the vision from Pharasma wrong.

Upon opening the door, the amurrun had been struck with a wave of draining magic, his mind and body fighting to return to the normal time of the world. All it took was a swipe of a claw to disrupt Mythara’s rune, throwing the dragon’s spell off and dispelling it. A few mages seemed to be offended by his actions, but Jakun found that death made things seem much more trivial. Why did the lich care what they thought? He pushed through their shouts, shrugging off a hand that tried to grab him as he headed for the stairs.

There was one person he did care about though. As soon as he laid eyes on Jeremy, Jakun’s fears came crashing back down. He needed to stay away from Jeremy, prevent the cleric from dying. Anya had already fallen because of his actions, and he couldn’t let Jeremy follow her.

“What are you doing here? I was going to find you,” the amurrun said, staring at the cleric.

Jeremy looked so frightened of him, the cleric’s hand inching toward his mug.

“Oh…”

It was his body. It had to be. Jakun hadn’t looked at himself yet, but the catfolk doubted he looked too good after a week of death. Running a hand over his face, the lich freshened his body as best he could, hoping it would help Jeremy not be as afraid.

“Oh kitten…. What did we tell you about not doing what Loran would do?”

Grimacing at the reminder of his master, Jakun shook his head.

“I… I’ll explain later. Is Amnor Sen here? I promised Mythara I’d give him something,” the catfolk said evasively, glancing at Eshe. “Oh, and I will be leaving the school. Thank you for your help Eshe. The room should be cleaned out.”

Walking past the mage with his phylactery in hand, Jakun glanced back at Jeremy. The cleric was clearly not happy. It would have worried Jakun in the past, but now it just annoyed him. The human knew he was seeking power. Lichdom was a tool to use, nothing more, nothing less.

Shaking his head, the amurrun left the building. He had more important things to worry about. First of all, how was he going to explain this to Amnor Sen? There was no way he could hide what had happened; Jeremy would tell the elf as soon as he saw him. He needed to get the paladin on his side. Jakun wasn’t scared of death, he just needed time to do what he wanted. And security.

Getting to Mechitar would be simpler. He had looked at maps with Mythara, plotting out a five day journey that would see him teleporting from city to city until he reached the undead citadel. From there, the catfolk figured Sadira would find him. He had cheated the elf twice now, and she was bound to be pissed. But Jakun could deal with her anger now. She would merely be a stepping stone on the way to Loran. With luck, he would have saved Anya. If not…

The lich felt a tinge of remorse, an emotion he pushed away. Anya had agreed to this. He couldn’t afford to mourn her, not while his enemies still drew breath.

And so he continued on, not concerned about Jeremy following him. A few people stared at him openly, but Jakun ignored them. They weren’t beneath him, he just couldn’t pay attention to them now. Passing down a lane, the amurrun stopped by a stable, smiling at the sight of Zephyr in his stall.

Until the horse whinnied at him sharply, the sound piercing the catfolk’s ears. Wincing, Jakun turned away with a sigh. It seemed he had made enemies of friends. Sacrifices had been made, and were still being made. The amurrun wondered if it truly was worth it. Altruism was all well and good in theory. But now that he had to deal with the consequences of his actions, Jakun was starting to see what Mythara had been trying to tell him. The path he had paved was a lonely one, one with few allies. But it was a road he would travel. The catfolk just wished he hadn’t killed his only companion.