The Nekromancer - 87. Chapter 87

Amnor Sen led Zephyr down the gangplank, the horse visibly unhappy about the circumstances. Nearly two weeks aboard a swaying vessel had done no good for the animal, and his legs were shaking as they set foot on the docks of Sothis. Amnor Sen was having the same issue, and he was pretty sure Jeremy shared it too.

The cleric had been rather quiet over the last few days, and the change unnerved Amnor Sen. He wasn’t sure if Jeremy was plotting something, or still coming to terms with the fact that he had gotten them kicked off the ship. He was still drinking, though he hadn’t gotten as drunk as he had been the night of the duel, and Amnor Sen was grateful for that. It seemed every time something disastrous happened because of his drinking, Jeremy cut back a bit, at least for a while.

They wandered through the streets of the city for a bit, weighed down by their gear once more. The desert sun shone down on the trio, surprisingly cool compared to what Amnor Sen expected. There was still a lot of sand in the city, but for the most part, the buildings around them seemed well kept and clean. Temples lined the road they walked, animal headed statues staring down at the foreigners, and Amnor Sen found himself studying one of the more human looking statues, feeling almost close to the figure spiritually.

“Great Ptah, god of crafting,” a bald man said, stepping up beside the statue. “Would you care to hear about him?”

“I’m a devotee of Shelyn,” Amnor Sen said. “Your god sounds similar, but different in a way.”

“Very different. Where your god espouses frivolity and beauty, Ptah enjoys the creations that have function,” the priest said, an almost pompous air about him.

“Yeah, and where’s your god of ale?” Jeremy challenged.

The priest frowned, shaking his head sadly.

“You seek the House of Bes. It is a hedonistic place, full of those who would take advantage of the gods’ bounty to party all day and night. No work is done in the House of Bes. If you seek a place to stay a while, the Sandswept Hall would be a better rest.”

Few directions were given, Amnor Sen leading Jeremy and Zephyr away from the bald priest. Both looked like they were spoiling for a fight, and the paladin was surprised. Shelyn was the god of beauty, and many of her crafts were functional, though some were certainly more for show. He hadn’t expected the priest of another god to understand, and he could accept some rudeness in ignorance, but the man seemed to believe only this Ptah was a great god, and that didn’t sit well with Amnor Sen at all.

Still, he was not about to attack someone over their beliefs, and he wouldn’t let Jeremy make that mistake either.

“There you two are...”

The elf turned his head and froze. A creature was walking toward them, eyes sunken, hair falling out in clumps, and with an arm sticking out of the bag on his back. He looked like a dragon had…

“Jakun?!”

Jeremy looked between the decrepit catfolk and Amnor Sen, trying to catch up to his husband. Beside them, Zephyr was having a minor fit, trying to back away from this spectre of death approaching them.

“There’s no way that’s-”

“No, it’s me,” Jakun sighed. “I’ve been waiting for you two for hours. Jeremy, do you know anything about arms? I’d hate to face Loran while armless.”

“I…”

The cleric paled, realizing belatedly that this ruined amurrun was in fact missing an arm.

“How did you… when did…”

“I don’t think Jeremy can help you with this one Jakun,” Amnor Sen said diplomatically. “Are you okay? I mean, I understand you’re missing an arm, well… not missing… but are you okay other than that?”

“I’m in one piece… wait, no… I’m still alive… no, that’s not it either…”

The amurrun burst into a fit of laughter, Amnor Sen looking at Jeremy uncomfortably.

“I’m doing better than Ivris,” Jakun giggled. “I turned him into a bunny.”

“Jakun, what’s going on? You sound like you’re losing your mind,” Amnor Sen said. “I can’t let that happen.”

“No, no, I’m not done yet. Loran is still alive. But I killed Sadira too. And ended a vampire slave den,” Jakun added quickly. “And I paid Sadira’s undead too. They have a memorial set up in my new home. Well, one of my new homes; I’m sure there will be more. But I like it there, it’s nice and safe. At least, it is now that I blocked the drains…”

“And your arm?” Jeremy demanded.

“Oh, that, that was Ivris. Sort of. I fell and broke it off,” Jakun said. “I could try reforming my body, but this one would have to die for that to work. Are you sure you can’t fix it? Oh, and you don’t have any cursed water on you, do you? I need it for an experiment. Though that should probably wait until after I have both arms again.”

“I don’t even know where to start,” Jeremy admitted. “I’m sure I could pray for you, but I don’t think Cayden Cailean would answer me.”

“Why not? I know I’m undead, but my soul can still be redeemed. I’m trying to keep myself good,” Jakun frowned.

“Kitten, you lost that opportunity when you sacrificed souls for power. No matter how willing they were, you killed people for immortality. You cannot spin that in a good light,” Amnor Sen explained. “You’ll be spending the rest of your existence trying to atone for your actions, and even then, it might not be enough.”

“I’m not a kitten anymore,” Jakun said sadly. “I never was. And you know that.”

“You will always be that scared little kitten on the run to me Jakun. And I will guide you for as long as I can,” the elf promised. “Now, how do we replace your body?”