The road work was moving along nicely. The dead under directions from the living were clearing the streets of debris, slowly but steadily making a path to the granaries, armouries, warehouses, and hospitals. Soldiers in small groups, starting with former inhabitants of the city, were allowed to survey the various neighbourhoods. If they came back with some keepsakes, clothes, blankets or food, it was ignored by their officers, and another group was allowed to head out.

The survey groups had mostly all reported the same thing, outside of scavenging animals, the city was dead. No demons were left in the corpse, only ghosts and bones. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief at the news. It was one thing to hear that the dead scouts hadn't seen any of the monsters, it was more reassuring to hear it from the living.

And there was some unexpected news as well.

Keir watched from the edge of the crowd as a few dozen starving, filthy humans came into the camp. They smelled like an outhouse, Keir had to wrinkle his nose even from his distant spot, but they were alive. Their faces ranged from shock at seeing a human army in the city, to glassy eyed apathy, especially from the handful of children.

When they saw the buckets of water and soap set out for them, the clean clothes stacked in piles, and soup with bark bread being heated over the campfires, they couldn't seem to believe it at first.

A man who may have been wearing the robes of a priest, moved towards the buckets, his eyes flicking back and forth like a panicked animal. He touched the water, finding it warm. A priestess of the Mother went up to him, she spoke quietly, holding out a clean rag and soap for him.

The man began to cry, falling to his knees, his arms raised. “Thank you,” he sobbed. “Thank you for delivering us from the Abyss.”

Like a dam breaking, the pitiful group broke into tears, hugging each other, thanking the soldiers who had led them to the camp, and made their way to the buckets. Stripping out of their rags, they began to work at the grime that was caked into their skin.

More tears fell when they put on clean clothes, and were handed tin cups filled to the brim with demon soup. People surrounded them, asking if they knew what had happened to friends and families. Officers quickly ordered them back, not wanting to overwhelm the newcomers, and to avoid the inevitable depression when people realized there would be few if any happy reunions.

Having seen enough, Keir walked up to the group, preparing a spell to kill the bugs that still infested their hair and skin even after the scrubbing. His own people made way for him, a few took off their caps in respect.

“Toshka!” a young man shouted, dropping his cup.

Surprised, Keir jerked to a halt. The man's face and neck were badly scarred and only recently healed, he had a battered pistol and sword on his belt, and it looked like he'd seen a ghost. Then the man ran at him, tears streaming down his face. Soldiers rushed in, grabbing him by the arms.

“That's far enough,” one of the soldiers said.

“Toshka, it's me Mirek! Don't you remember?” the man said.

Keir walked up to him. “I'm sorry, I'm not Toshka,” he said.

“Of course you are. That pox scar on your cheek, you got it when you were fifteen, and your entire family came down with cow pox. I brought food for you and your family everyday until you recovered.”

His hand went to the small scar on his cheek, so small it was barely noticeable. “Let him through,” he told the soldiers.

The man, Mirek, didn't quite run up to him. Keir was about to speak, when two strong arms wrapped around, lifting his tiny body into the air and a tearful kiss was planted on his cheek.

“I prayed every day that you made it to safety. I tried to protect your parents, I'm so sorry, but I lost them when the city fell. I couldn't save them, They told me to save the children. They gave their lives so we could get to the sewers. They were heroes.”

“Mirek, put me down,” Keir ordered, trying to get free from the overpowering embrace.

“ What of my brothers? Did you get them and Luka and Brina to Desolation Keep? Are they safe?”

The questions kept coming, and it was getting hard to breathe. Keir realized the man was in shock, and wasn't listening. With a mental command he made his ghostly guards visible, the ghosts grabbed the Mirek's arms, pulling him off, freeing the master.

Taking a moment to straighten his clothes and get his composure back, Keir looked up at the man, who was staring in horror at the ghosts who still held him. “Mirek, I'm not Toshka. I'm sorry, but she died. I don't know what happened to your brothers or Toshka's family and friends.”

“B-but,” the man started to speak, when a large ethereal hand clamped down over his mouth.

Using his magic, Keir made his voice carry over the crowd. Not shouting, but sounding as if he was talking from just a few feet away. Dark mist rose around him. “I am Mage Kiera, formerly Emperor Keir. Toshka died of an illness, her body was prepared and my soul was placed inside of it. I'm the Necromancer Reborn, alive again after three centuries to fight the demons and send them back to the Abyss. The woman you knew is with Mother Sun, protected from pain and suffering.”

Mirek stared at her, the hope and joy that had filled his eyes moments before faded away, replaced by grief. Dropping to his knees he wailed like the damned.

Keir rose early in the morning as the sun was just coming over the horizon. The makeshift camp was slowly coming to life, as he made his way to the cooking fires to get some porridge and a cup of hot chicory coffee. The drink wasn't as refreshing as coffee, but the warmth felt good on the cold morning.

Taking a seat on a bench that had been dragged out of a ruined restaurant, Keir quietly watched the world wake up. More survivors had been found, not many, less than a hundred in all. That they had survived at all was a miracle.

They moved with a cautious, wide eyed look, as if expecting everything to disappear. As they got their meagre bowl of porridge, they clutched it to their chests as they went to find somewhere to eat. When it was cool enough, they emptied the bowl into their mouth and licked it clean before some imagined thief could steal it from them.

The soldiers and workers were a mix of emotions and reactions. Some just went through the motions of eating and got to work without any complaints, maybe talking to their friends about what to expect. Others were morose, staring at the shattered buildings, remembering when the city had been alive and full of people. The smallest group laughed and joked, trying to bring everyone's spirit up.

A priest stood off to the side preaching the fiery creed of Father Moon. A sizable number of believers knelt before him, listening intently. Their body language was ugly. They wanted a fight. Keir wondered how soon they would get it.

As he watched, Keir saw Mirek watching him with shadowed eyes.

He turned away, refusing to dwell on his body's former lover. There was nothing he could say to the man. The woman he had loved, the woman he had been going to marry was dead. There was nothing Keir could do for him.

Getting to his feet, the necromancer went off to find Colonel Moreno. There was work to be done, might as well get it done quickly.

Keir looked up at Von, who was strapped into his saddle, face pale, the stump of his hand well wrapped in healing bandages.

“Are you sure you're up for this?” he asked the mage.

“Yes.” Von replied, his normally deep voice was quiet and worn out. “I'm curious about your lab, and you may need magical help.”

“Very well. I hope you can keep up.” Keir went to his horse and mounted it. Waving to the twenty soldiers and his ghosts that flew above their heads, they started down the road towards the river docks.

Ghostly screams, shouts and pleas for mercy rose from the houses and air. Sometimes they were matched by translucent figures reliving their last moments. Keir didn't dare look at the street with his magic sight, the ghosts would have been overwhelming.

As they got closer to the docks, the buildings became poorer. In the better part of the town the buildings had torn down doors and shattered windows, hiding the atrocities that had occurred behind thick wall. These cheaper buildings hadn't been so lucky, walls were torn down, and fire had ravaged entire neighbourhoods.

“This doesn't seem like an area you'd use for a study,” Von said.

“That's exactly why I put it here, I wanted privacy for my work. To ensure I had it, I never came this way. There was a teleportation circle hidden in my private office with a scrying mirror to notify me if someone wanted my attention. I also had a few back entrances ready, just in case.”

The mages jaw dropped, likely as he realized the cost of such a set up. Setting up the teleportation alone would have would feed a small city for  an entire year. “That seems excessive,” he finally managed to say.

“And that's why I became the ruler of the continent whereas most people rely on half-measures and hope,” Keir replied.

They came to a large door that protected the entrance to the sewer. Keir placed his hand on the handle and released a very specific bolt of necromantic energy. The door swung open showing a section of the sewer. Keir created a silvery light as they went through, the door closed by itself once everyone had entered. Some of the soldiers gasped when they saw the door vanish leaving a dark sewer tunnel that seemed to stretch on forever. Making their way down, ducking low in the cramped tunnel, careful to stay on the stone platform that kept them mostly free of the filth that coated the bottom of the sewer, he counted the bricks, until he reached the ninety-eighth one from the entrance.

He knocked three times quickly, twice slowly and one last time after counting to twenty. A ghostly butler opened the hidden door.

The elegantly dressed ghost eyes widened in surprise, then a smile came to its pale, dour face. “Emperor Keir, it has been too long,” the ghost said bowing low.

“I'm sorry for making you wait so long Jaris,” Keir said to his faithful attendant. “Your duty is now over, you can depart or join me up above in a war against demons.”

“I served you in life, I will continue to serve you in death, sir.”

“Thank you my friend. Now we have much to do and little time, I need my notes on vampires.”

The ghost hesitated for a moment, his pale eyes suddenly looking nervous. Then Jaris nodded, saying “Of course, sir.”

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Necromancer Unmanned will be updated every Sunday. My other story Doom Valley Prep School will be updated every Monday.

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