Keir, Von and Hanina were escorted through the halls of the keep at the center of Desolate Fort to the main hall. The escort watched them warily, particularly the ghostly maid who floated silently behind Keir. The necromancer wondered how the dignitaries would act when they met. So far he'd been greeted mostly by fear and wariness, he could understand why they felt like that, but it was getting annoying.

“Shall I introduce you as Keir or Keira?” Von asked.

“Since you saw fit to resurrect me as a woman, Keira is more appropriate,” he replied. “However if you could call me Former Emperor Keira, I would appreciate it.”

“I don't believe that would set peoples minds at ease,” the mage said.

“Would Master of the Necromantic College, Grand General of the Undying Army, Prince of Port Krakan, High Lord of the Trgovac Alliance, Marque of Iron Mountain, Earl of the Western Isles, and Viscount of Vodopad City, be more appropriate? I have several dozen more titles I could use if you give me a few minutes to remember them all. Usually I have a herald to recite them for me, but my last herald is three hundred years dead.”

“You will have to settle for merely being Mage Keira.”

“Pity, it took me quite a while to acquire all those titles, it's a shame I can't use them.” Smiling, he strode into the large main hall, where a dozen well dressed men and women were waiting. Guards lined the wall, their hard faces made it clear they were ready to kill if given the order. Servants stood at attention, prepared to serve as needed.

He followed Von to the middle of the room, where they stopped and looked up at an old man wearing a white outfit that looked like an officers dress uniform. The mage did a small half bow to the man and the other dignitaries. Keir stood motionless for several seconds, looking them all in the eyes before nodding in their direction.

“High Commander Alder,” Von said, “it is my pleasure to introduce Mage Keira, formerly Master Keir of the Necromantic College.”

“So your experiment was successful,” Alder said. He glared at Keir, his hands clenched on the arms of his chair. “Is it controlled?”

“The binding tattoos worked. She has to obey my orders and cannot harm a human, however she is freely choosing to work with us. Mage Keira has already used her powers to help the refugees.”

An elderly woman wearing robes that looked similar to a High Priestess of the Sun and Moon, spoke, “We saw your undead rising from the ground. The guards were nearly called out to deal with them.”

“When Mage Keira saw how the refugees were suffering, she asked for my permission to help them. The undead are under the control of the soldiers in the camp, and have merely obeyed the orders they were given, digging wells and proper latrines,” Von said.

The priestess and several others turned to look at Keir with renewed interest. High Commander Alder's expression might as well have been carved in stone.

“Prove to us that it is under your control,” the old man said.

“Would you prefer I dance like a monkey, or shall I bray like an ass for your entertainment?” Keir asked, stepping forwards. They had resurrected him, they had bound him to their will, and now this old man was treating him like a thing not worthy of being considered human. He would not stand for it.

“Keira,” Von said in a warning tone.

“High Commander Alder,” he continued, ignoring the warning, “I am the greatest necromancer to ever live. I ruled this continent three hundred years ago, and fought the world to a stalemate until I was assassinated. Now I find myself here, my soul bound by my lessers, and I've been told I must fight an army of demons. If I wasn't under this geas, do you truly believe I'd willingly stand here being insulted by the likes of you?”

The guards stepped forward, weapons drawn, he ignored them.

“Now will you provide us with food and a place to rest for the night, before I go to face these demons that have slaughtered your people and forced you to hide away in your keep, or are we just wasting our time?”

“You'll do,” Alder said. He waved a servant forward. “Show her to her room, she is to remain there until General Ajani calls for her. Make sure she has everything she needs.”

The servant hesitantly came up to Keir, making a protective symbol as he looked at Hanina. “Mage Keira, if you would please follow me,” he said, his voice soft and pleading.

“Lead on,” he told the servant, turning his back on the dignitaries.

It was a short ways to a large, well appointed room where three women waited. The eldest was an old crone with dark grey hair, the other two, young girls barely ready to leave their parents side, all of them in ill fitting servant dresses The servant having completed his task didn't quite run from the room.

The maids stared wide eyed at him, then they saw his ghostly servant.

Keir watched in surprise as tears welled up in their eyes, the oldest one actually broke into a grin. They went to their knees, bowing down so their foreheads touched the floor. “Praise Sephtis for allowing you to return, Regua,” the oldest one said.

Her accent was thick, mixing words from several different languages into a strange pidgin, nothing like the language Von or the guards spoke. It took him a moment to work out what she was saying. “I'm not your ruler, and death did not allow me to return,” he said.

They ignored him.

“We are the Lleial. We have awaited your return since you were betrayed. The prophecy said you would return in our hour of greatest need, and now you stand before us once again,” the old woman said, her head still firmly planted on the ground.

“Praise Sephtis. Praise Regua.” the girls chanted.

Keir was used to being praised and cheered as a leader, being treated as a holy figure, that was different. And while it was enjoyable seeing that at least some people were happy that he was alive once more, what he needed was information, not blind devotion.

“You honour me with your praise. However it is time to serve me, stand up, draw me a bath and bring me some food,” he said.

The women practically jumped to their feet, rushing to do his bidding. A brass tub in the corner of the room was filled by the girls with water that had already been heated in a small side chamber, while the old woman poured scented oils in the water. As they worked, Hanina helped Keir strip out of his clothes.

When the tub was ready, he stepped in, sighing in relief as muscles he hadn't realized were stiff, slowly loosened. The youngest girl left to get some food, while the others gently scrubbed him cleaned. They weren't very good at it, treating him more like an infant than an adult, but it would do for now. Still his thoughts went back to his time at the imperial palace, where he had had a pool of heated water and an army of servants and wives ready to wash him, massage his muscles, entertain him with music and plays, or pleasure him.

“What are your names?” he asked.

“You honour us by asking, Regua. I am Adria of the 6th Cuirassiers,” the old woman said. Then she pointed first at the older girl, then the younger one. “This is Elia of the 10th Lancers. The youngest is Galia of the 1st Cuirassiers.”

His curiosity grew, why were they claiming to be from cavalry regiments? “So you are the Lleial? What does that mean?” he asked.

“We are the ones who stayed loyal,” Adria replied. “When you were betrayed, Regua, the Undying Army fought on for years, refusing to surrender to the dogs who had to use trickery and lies to kill you. They grew tired and many of them chose to surrender, so they could return to their lands and homes. We fought on. Most of the Llieal were in the cavalry, those who weren't soon learned how to ride so we could stay ahead of the dogs that hunted us. We made them pay for their crimes against you during The Running War.”

Her voice was full of pride and steel. Her history was almost certainly coloured by the stories of defeated warriors who refused to bend the knee. Still Keir had to smile at the thought of his soldiers refusing to simply surrender and plead for mercy as his empire broke apart. “How did your people survive the centuries?”

“We travelled to the Tuul Desert, Regua. Those who dared to follow us were killed. It was hard at first, a just penance for failing you. But we survived, growing strong, raising our Nens.” Adria stopped seeing his questioning look.

“Our horses, they are as much a part of us as our hands, so we call them our children. Nens in our language,” she explained. “Sometimes we would raid those near us, other times we would trade. We trained our young to be fierce warriors, strong traders, and expert scouts, so we could serve you when you return.”

Keir nodded in understanding. Now he knew why her accent was strange, and why she used a mixture of words from several different languages. His Undying Army had been made up of people from all over the continent, they had all been taught to speak the language of Anwen, but the soldiers hadn't lost their native tongues. They must have created their own new language from all the different varieties. Still one thing bothered him.

“What is this prophecy you mentioned?”

“You are testing me, Regua,” she said, her eyes shining with religious fervour. “It is an easy test, every child of the Llieal learn of the prophecy at their mothers breast. During the darkest days of The Running War, Luka, our First Priest of Sephtis, had a vision of you standing at the gate of eternal death. You told him to seek a place of safety, to grow strong and wait for your return. When the enemy seems overwhelming and all hope is lost, you would return. The strongest and bravest of the Llieal will rise up, forming the spearhead of the Undying Army, serving you in life and death, bringing a new age of glory to your people.”

As he listened to the woman speak, Keir's heart grew heavier. He'd never cared much for religion, he'd supported the regional religions as long as the priesthood didn't speak out against his rule. A few times he'd had to quietly remove outspoken speakers and replace them with more pliable ones. It had always been a matter of bringing stability to the area, he personally had had little time for gods and spirits that cared more for the immaterial side of life, than the physical here and now.

Now he was supposed to be a weapon against an army of demons that had defeated every army placed before them, while being seen as a monster by many, and he was also some kind of saviour to religious fanatics. The situation just kept getting better.

The door opened and the young girl, Galia, stepped in holding a covered platter. Kneeling down beside the tub, she placed the platter on the side table and took the lid off, revealing a meager assortment of gristly, boiled meat, a small bun, a few spoonfuls of boiled rice, and a bowl of dried apple slices. “I'm sorry, Regua,” she said, “this was all they had to offer.”

Adria saw the pitiful meal and rose to her feet. “Stupid, faithless girl! Offering the Regua such a meal! The demons should have eaten you!”

The girl lowered her head as the old woman strode around the tub, hand raised to beat her.

“Wait!” Keir said. He frowned at his voice, instead of a commanding boom, it was more of a high pitched yell. He'd have to work on that when he had time.

Adria fell to her knees, head down. “I'm sorry, Regua. It is your place to punish the girl, not mine.”

This wouldn't do. Keir wasn't used to having to explain things to his servants, but allies of any kind were desperately needed, and these three women were the best he was going to get for now. He needed them working for him, not treating him as some holy figure that needed to be treated like glass.

“I'm not going to punish anyone, Adria. We are in a siege and people are starving, I cannot and will not expect a grand feast,” he said. “Now how many of the Llieal are there?”

“Thank you for your mercy, Regua,” the woman said. “In the camp there are two thousand of us, mostly children and mothers, along with a few elders such as myself. In the army there are just over a thousand, everyone who can ride a horse, fire a gun and use a sword.”

“There used to be over ten thousand of us,” the middle girl, Elia, said, speaking for the first time.

Keir looked at her closely for the first time, seeing the tears slowly falling, how her frail body shook, fear and grief was clearly written on her face. “I'm sorry for everything you've gone through,” he said, keeping his voice soft, surprisingly easy in his new body.

“Where were you?” the girl demanded, her dark brown eyes piercing him. “We fought until the demons made our land run with blood, slaughtering us like goats at a festival. Then we came here, crossing the continent seeking salvation. We were stalked and hunted like dogs, split apart so they could kill us at their leisure. We're broken, and only now do you come to save us? There's nothing left to save.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Adria and Galia cowering in the corner, clutching each other in fear of what he was about to do to the impertinent girl. His own ghostly servant merely stood off to the side, her eyes down, uncaring of what he might do. Silently he cursed the man who three centuries before had made a nonsense prophecy, either from insanity or as a desperate measure to keep the moral of his people from cracking. He had never wanted to be a god or holy figure, wealth, power, and knowing he had shaped history was more than enough for him.

He got out of the tub, Elia jerked back, shaking like a leaf, but refusing to look away. Hanina came forward wrapping him in a soft robe. Dripping wet, Keir kept his expression sombre, wishing he was dressed and in a more commanding position.

“Elia,” he said, “there are things you and even I cannot understand. I wish I had been there to fight beside your people at the start, that wasn't possible. There are rules and I cannot break them.”

She was still glaring at him. Words alone couldn't erase the belief that he had personally allowed them to die. Collecting a tiny bit of magic, he made the air darken, a shadowy construct rose from the floor, his eyes turned black and fragments of shadow circled him. In a bit of inspiration he used some of the energy to make his voice deeper.

The girl broke. Falling to her knees, she covered her head, likely expecting him to strike her dead.

Kneeling down, he gently took her by the chin and made her look at him. Then he spoke. “I am sorry for the slaughter you witnessed and the loss you have suffered. I cannot change the past, but I promise on my life and soul that every surviving Llieal is now under my protection. I will scour the continent to find any survivors and bring them under my banner. Starting tomorrow, for every Llieal who was killed, I will slaughter a thousand demons and rid the world of their kind forever. I swear this to you, Elia of the 10th Lancers.”

With a thought, he made the faceless construct move towards him, placing a hand on his head. Shadows filled the room, blotting out the light as a thunderous boom erupted all around them. A second later he made the magic vanish. The room was back to normal, and the women were staring at him in astonishment. Elia in particular had lost much of her anger.

“Now,” he said, putting a hand on the girls cheek, “I want you to go and tell everyone of your people my promise to you. Give them hope.”

Elia almost fell over getting back to her feet. “Yes, Regua. I will,” she said, nearly as reverently as Adria.

Watching her run out of the room, Keir wondered if he had done the right thing. He needed the people to hope, but turning himself into a holy leader was not something he had planned or ever desired. Shaking his head, he forced himself to put the misgivings aside. Von hadn't given him any warning of this, and if given the choice, a horde of obedient religious fanatics was better than a mob of the angry and hopeless.

Taking a seat at the small table, he turned to the two women. “Tell me about the demons. How do they fight and how do we kill them?” he asked, before taking a bite of the pitiful food.

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The Necromancer Unmanned will be updated every Sunday night. My other story The Oubliette, will be updated every second Friday, and Doom Valley Prep School will be updated every Monday.

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