The house was as run down as it looked from the outside. The room they were in was completely devoid of furniture. The floorboards were bare and bristling with splinters; the walls covered with damp peeling stock.
Erich, regaining some of his earlier bravery, led the way and left the room.
On the other side of the door they found themselves on an equally bare stair landing ... To go up to the upper floor there was a staircase with some steps missing and others half broken.
The air was thick with the smell of mold ... It seemed that no one had inhabited the house in a long time, and yet he had seen some kind of servant open the door to the two body snatchers just a month before.
Erich surveyed the flight of stairs that led up into the darkness of the upper floor. Convinced that there was no danger that could come from there, he cautiously peered over the railing. Viktor followed suit.
The light from the street lamps that entered the building through
The simple black-skinned book was a scholar's chronicle of his search for lost knowledge at the time of the coming of the Dark Gods, and while it was an interesting read, it didn't really teach Viktor anything very useful.The book titled only Anatomy, on the other hand, fascinated him and he had to acknowledge that the concepts and detailed information it contained were easy for him to assimilate and integrate into his own knowledge. In fact, he seemed to have a strange affinity for the ideas presented in the book. He attributed this to the long relationship he had had with death by growing up as the son of a priest of the death god.After a week without any sudden and unexpected visit from the guard or worse, Viktor dared to go out into the street again. He even dared to return to the School to continue his work there. When Professor Ulbert Hinsteil asked him where he had been, Viktor replied that he had suffered a bad summer cold. Lying was another thing he was not
It is a common misconception to believe that necromancers hate life because of their dealings with death. There could be nothing further from the truth!Those who practice the art of necromancy may well spend years looting the graves of the dead, abandoned cemeteries, fetid ossuaries and ancient burial mounds, avoiding the light of day to take advantage of the protective shadow of the night and the relationship with the living in favor. From the company of moldy corpses. But what motivates this behavior is the desire to hang on to life for longer.Some actually reach necromancy by mistake. They want knowledge for its own sake, or they are trying to save their own life or that of a loved one. Perhaps it is also true that many of those who come to practice the dark art are prone to madness and dark desires because what else could lead them to study the lowest and vilest form of the art of magic? Yet there is something in their forbidden quest that inevitably leads them o
Viktor continued to descend, the voices that seemed to be casting a spell clearer with each step. He still didn't understand the words they were singing; they seemed to belong to a language he did not know. But as he listened to them he felt his scalp tighten and his hair stand on end. Sound leaked like icy liquid from every pore.Suddenly Viktor realized his teeth were chattering, so he clenched his jaws. Was it really from the cold under the house, or was it due to something else?The stone steps ended and he began another corridor, this one made of crumbling bricks, glittering with algae and water. The ceiling was covered with cobwebs where the skeletal corpses of their owners could be seen. The light flickered at the other end of the hall. By going down that path, Viktor risked coming face to face with whoever was casting the spell, probably Doctor Tepes, but now he couldn't help himself.Before he knew it, he was peering around the archway at the other end
The doctor had finished sewing the opening of the corpse and was now making strange gestures with his hands on the body; as the spell increased in intensity. This curious procedure made Viktor's stomach turn. Every gesture the doctor made was burned into his memory. The incomprehensible words of the spell reverberated in his mind as if they were familiar.As the mantra continued, the atmosphere in the laboratory cellar changed perceptibly. Viktor felt static electricity build up inside his own body as if he were trapped in the middle of an incipient electrical storm. He felt the shadows thicken around him. The air itself had taken on a suffocating quality. He looked greasy and tainted.Seen out of the corner of his eye, as he watched the doctor and the ritual taking place below, the impenetrable darkness that refused to disappear from the corners of the vault seemed to run like oil across the ceiling and ruined walls and gradually envelop the room, as if the shadows we
Viktor knew that he should have reported what he had seen that night, what he thought he had seen, to the Inquisitors. But now it was too late. In fact, he should have gone to the Inquisition earlier, after the discovery he had made in Dr. Tepes' library or even before that, when he saw the body snatchers. Of course, it was too late. The consequences for him were too dire and final to consider. No, he should just watch and wait alone and unaided for this to be over.On the thirtieth day of the month, Herwin visited him again. The excuse was that Professor Theodria had sent him to find out what had happened to Viktor and find out what was happening. Herwin was treated unceremoniously and Viktor dismissed him without giving any reason for his recent absence from school.Herwin returned four days later and insisted that they let him in and the two apprentices explain what was going on. On that occasion, a delusional Erich expelled him from the apartment. Herwin stormed of
I can still remember the first time I took the life of another man as clearly as it had been yesterday.I have killed many. The bully Inquisitor, the desperate prostitute, the unloyal soldier, the alcoholic priest, the grumbling ferrywoman, the repulsive and manipulative bloodsucker of the Moroi clan, the rude undertaker, the half-deranged militia soldier, the pompous nobleman, the master of the wizard's guild, my own apprentice, the big-whisked rat catcher, the stupid adventurer who fancied himself a hero, the innocent twins, the greedy thief.But I still remember the first. The first is special.I can still see his face as he strangled him. I can see the red and bulging eyes, the swollen tongue sticking out of the mouth, the puffed cheeks turning from pink to purple. I can hear the husky gurgling sputtering of the man choking and trying to inhale air that will never reach his lungs. I feel his desperate hands hitting m
Viktor arrived at the apartment building as the temple bells struck ten o'clock. In the dark, one of his feet brushed against something hairy and wet. Viktor stopped and took a step back.The unearthly luminescence of the moon illuminated even the darkness of the street, where the light devoid of shades stripped the object of all its color, but in spite of that it was unmistakable.Erich's cat lay dead in the street. His skinny body was unnaturally stretched out. Hideously black blood stained his spiky ginger hair where the wagon wheel had passed over him.Seeing such an incongruous image momentarily distracted Viktor from his own worries and anguish. Erich would be greatly affected. For some strange reason, he adored that grungy stray cat.Viktor bent down and scooped up the cat's body in the cape. The pungent acrid smell of the dead animal assaulted his nostrils even more strongly than the smell of
Viktor turned his head slowly and saw that Erich was standing in the doorway, his horrified face turned into conspicuous shock. For a moment, neither of them said anything. Viktor was busy panting, and Erich was simply too scared to say anything.Viktor's roommate had no need to explain what he was doing there. If anyone had to explain something, it was Viktor. And yet it was Erich, still standing in the doorway and not daring to step through, the first to speak.“I… I heard the cat. He was meowing. M… I wondered what had happened to him. "Viktor glanced at the body lying on the workbench. The front of the ginger cat hung from the edge of the table."Well, now you know," Viktor replied.Erich looked from Viktor to the cat and back to Viktor, the same shocked expression of horror painted on his face."H ... how?" was the only thing he coul