The Nekromancer - 80. Chapter 80

“I know you are out there. You and I have some talking to do. You may have escaped me once, but I assure you it won’t happen again.”

Jakun stayed outside the room, thinking. Killing Sadira would be easy, the matter of a lucky shot with his bow. He even had the arrow on his bowstring. But he didn’t want to kill her. Not until she released-

“Anya, was it? Was her sacrifice worth it?” the necromancer taunted. “You got around my book, you led my enemy to my doorstep, destroying my army in the process. Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you and claim your soul right now.”

“You should,” Jakun said, fingers working over his body to cast a spell.

The catfolk took a step into the room, his stance loose, ready to move, to fight, a dexterous lightness filling his bones. Sunlight washed over his face, the lich barely sparing a glance for the vampire lord burning to death. He felt the tingle of magic over him, a spike of compulsion stabbing into his mind, before being turned aside with a thought. Silently Jakun thanked Mythara, wherever the dragon was now. His lessons over the four months they had spent in that other dimension meant the difference between life and death here, and Jakun fully intended to win this match.

“You have someone that belongs by my side,” he said, not bothering to raise his voice.

A flicker of unease washed over Sadira’s face, the necromancer taking a step back as Jakun let his decrepit body show. Skin was peeling away from his arms, his ears and tail a mottled mess of flesh and fur. The amurrun was a dead corpse walking, and his presence unnerved the living, perfect for what he was doing here.

“She is my property now,” the mage said, snapping her fingers.

A hulking body stepped into the room, undead eyes looking blindly over the catfolk. Jakun felt the warmth that passed over him turn into a sudden freezing chill as he realized that the undead werewolf was Anya’s body, but her soul trapped inside was wrong, ruined.

“What did you do to her?”

“A little torture, but honestly, you’re the one who killed her,” Sadira waved off. “She couldn’t handle being apart from you, and it broke her better than anything I could throw at her. So I ask again, was she worth your life?”

“She cannot be saved then,” Jakun replied, a heavy finality to his voice.

“She actually saved quite well compared to my other creations. You are looking at my jennu tawura,” Sadira said proudly. “Just think of what you missed out on. This could have been you, an honoured soul among my creations.”

Jakun looked at his former friend- no, there wasn’t enough of the spirit left to give the body that distinction. He had failed her. There was only one way to save her now.

His arrow was flying in the blink of an eye, Sadira barking out a shielding spell. Her eyes widened as the arrow curved away from her, Jakun’s aim sending it into Anya’s head.

And yet, the werewolf remained standing. It took a step forward, and then another, claws raised to attack, and Jakun retreated, trying to recall just how to kill something that was already undead.

“Lasau jaehlki!”

“Pok lasauic!” Sadira barked, an attempt to counter the amurrun’s spell.

A battle of wills ensued, Jakun retreating as he fired another arrow, this time at the necromancer. There was a sudden stumble in Sadira’s mental assault, and a dozen hyenas appeared within the room.

“Ixen krakawnoth!”

A tiny orb appeared in Sadira’s hand, the necromancer hurling it at Jakun. The catfolk took a deep breath, setting another arrow to his string and loosing it in a fluid motion.

“Fireball,” he called as the arrow left his hand.

There was a sudden explosion of fire as the arrow met the miniscule orb, the amurrun pushing through the agony of the burning flames as they passed over his body. His robes were singed, his flesh melted away, but he was still standing, and he could almost taste Sadira’s terror as he moved toward her.

Most of the hyenas were gone, destroyed in the blast, but the few that remained had the werewolf pinned down, allowing their summoner time to focus on the necromancer who dared to fight a lich. Reaching out, Jakun gathered energy in his hand, grasping Sadira’s arm as she tried to retreat. The necrotic energy flowed from him in a rush, the lich sending death into his enemy’s body.

The necromancer seized up, paralyzed by the lich’s touch. Jakun set his bow aside for his rapier, pressing the tip against Sadira’s throat.

No words needed to be said. He could see her mind spinning, trying to find some way to survive, to escape. There was nothing she could do. No contingency spell would save her from his paralyzing touch. And with a sad shake of his head, the lich slid his blade into the neck of his foe, cutting her life away with a single gurgling breath.

But even as the body fell, Jakun knew the fight was far from over. The werewolf was a construct, not a summon, and he needed to destroy it somehow. The lich mentally ran through his spells. There was only one spell he could think of, the last spell Mythara had taught him.

Jakun took a breath, preparing himself as the last hyena was shredded by the werewolf. If the spell worked, Anya would be gone forever. The catfolk found himself hoping that it would fail, and he would find a way to save her, but he already knew it was impossible.

Meeting the lycanthrope’s undead glare, the lich raised his hand.

“Xkhat vi wiik.”

He felt a brief resistance as the creature charged, and then a sudden burst of magic. The werewolf melted away, replaced by a toad, and Jakun stepped toward it, feeling the malice present in the creature even now. His sword lifted, and then fell, skewering the toad, and ending the soul of his lifelong companion.