Daughter of Death - A Necromantic LitRPG

Just as quickly as Lieze had ordered them up, the tents were torn down and packed away. A single attempt on her life - however successful - was precisely the breath of fresh air Lieze needed to understand the severity of her situation. The Elves knew where she and her allies were, and they wouldn’t pass up a single opportunity to sow chaos across the Order by severing the cult at its neck.

The impenetrable darkness of Akzhem would work in her favour for the time being. Without sunlight, the Deathguards would have a difficult time pinning down the hour, and their bodies would always assume rest was hours away - at least until fatigue began to set in. Barring exceptional circumstances, Lieze had every intention of reaching the Black City over the course of a single, tumultuous death march.

“Dear oh dear…” Lüngen tapped the bottom of his pipe to empty it of tobacco and tucked it into a pocket on his vest, “And here I thought we’d have some time to relax.”

Drayya smirked, “You’ll be thankful for the exercise, Lüngen.”

“How horrifying it is to know that the innocent girl who once fell asleep in my lap listening to fairy tales is now remarking snidely about my weight.” He sighed, “I’ve lost a good deal since we moved from Tonberg, you know. Soon I’ll be nothing more than a skeleton.”

“Yeah - that’s not the first time you’ve said something like that, old man.” Roland stepped forward to poke his head over Lüngen’s shoulder, “Tell me again what happened to those scones the hour after I left them to cool on a countertop?”

“If you didn’t want those eaten, then you shouldn’t have slathered them with butter and laid them out in plain sight.” Lüngen chuckled, “They were lovely, though. Nice and crumbly. You should make those again, Roland.”

“Maybe we should focus on getting out of this forsaken forest alive before we think about eating scones?” Drayya tipped her head towards the darkness, “I’m surprised, Lieze. Normally you’re the one telling everyone to get their priorities in order.”

“Fill your heads with dreams of luxury if it hones your senses.” Lieze replied, “It doesn’t bother me in the slightest. Promise me only that your minds will be present when I bark an order, and I’ll tolerate any attitude.”

They were huddled together, conjoining lights to form a beacon in the dark. Lieze’s eyes were stuck on the distant canopy, where she was certain another group of assassins would appear at any moment. The thunderous footfalls of flesh beasts and alchemic monstrosities from behind ruined her ability to distinguish the crackle of twigs underfoot from the telling wave of something lingering in the bushes.

They went on for as long as their feet would carry them. Within the hour, Akzhem’s terrain took a turn for the vertical, and all of a sudden their progress was slowed to a crawl by the great twisting roots which bored in and out of the fertile soil. There, Lieze thought, was the land in its uninhibited state, where Elves and blind beasts roamed.

“...Hm.” Baccharum raised his head, “This is where our swelling numbers become a problem that can’t be ignored. Guaranteeing passage for every thrall will eat into our sacred silence like nothing else.”

Lieze examined the wall of bark before her and looked both ways to find a path forward. Further down the length, where the roots came up in huge arcs, crescent spaces beneath their heft were crisscrossed by branching lattices.

“Look over here-” Lieze swung her lantern, “There are spots where the roots are thinner. We can use the Rot Behemoths to force our way through for now, but the time will come when we’ll have to thin our numbers.”

“It would be better if we could take a detour around.” Baccharum replied, “These labyrinthine networks can run for miles, twisting every which way, towards the canopy, beneath the earth… there’s a good chance we’ll find ourselves more lost than you can possibly imagine.”

As if to rebuke the idea, a notification appeared to block Lieze’s vision.

New Quest Received!

‘Lost Woods’ - Take a shortcut through Akzhem’s root networks and emerge in one piece

Reward - 8,000xp

“...What sorts of threats will we be facing in there?” She asked.

“Above? The great eyeless hawks of the canopy will pick our bones clean.” Baccharum shifted his mouth to and fro as if chewing something, “Below, the mantids will strike with enough force to tear a man clean in two. Then…”

Lieze allowed him the benefit of a pause before leaning forward, “Then?”

“Then there are… other things, too.” He finished, “Strange things. Wichts. We may see them, we may not. But if we do, then the trajectory of your omnicidal journey across this world might take a very strange turn, Lieze.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Start making some sense.”

“No. There is no ‘sense’ with the Wichts. They’re in a world of their own - a deeply, vengeful, sometimes harmless but usually wicked world. We know to steer clear of the roots, for that seems to be their domain, but as long as one respects their presence and knows their place…”

“As long as these ‘Wichts’ don’t get in our way, I’ll gladly put up with them.” Lieze resolved, “We’re going in. If the Elves avoid places like these as you say, then we might be able to find someplace suitable to set up camp.”

“The faster we tear through, the better…” Baccharum sighed, “I’ve rounded up a few roots that should ward off the worst of them when burned, but I don’t doubt things will be less than perfect as they usually are. But you mustn't fight them, Lieze. No matter what.”

“I can’t promise that.” She shook her head and took a step towards the lattice, “Now-”

Her wrist was caught in the Elf’s grasp. His long, freezing fingers lended the sensation of being caressed by some enormous insect. Lieze yanked her arm away, but Baccharum’s grip was like a vice. Though she couldn’t see his eyes under the blindfolds, a stray glance told her that somehow, he was meeting her gaze.

“If we’re going into the roots, then you’ll do as I say if you care about leaving.” He warned, “There are no second chances against the Wichts, Lieze. Slip up, and you could easily lose more than your life.”

His voice was grave. Fearful, almost. It was the voice of a man who was speaking of forces beyond his or anyone’s ability to control. Lieze couldn’t stand being ordered about, much less spoken to as if she wasn’t the Order’s leader, but fear was a language she understood better than any other, and she had learned that Baccharum was not the fearful sort.

“...Fine, then.” She said, “I won’t pretend to understand more about this land than you do. But at least provide me with an explanation as to why these Wichts are as dangerous as you claim.”

“I’d be glad to.” He nodded, “We’ll be wandering this maze for a while, after all.”

A minute later, the Rot Behemoth had charged straight through one of the flimsy partitions leading into the roots, and Lieze’s army funnelled in like a turgid ocean of rot. As soon as Lieze crossed the threshold, she could sense a change in the woods, not unlike - as Baccharum had mentioned - suddenly entering a stranger’s home.

“Wichts are the heart and soul of the Black Forest.” Baccharum kept his voice low while they squeezed single-file through the tight passageways, “Humans may call them ‘fairies’, but that term connotes a helpful woodland sprite. The kind of magical creature that waves a wand to cure ailments and avail woes. The Wichts are not fairies, and neither do they have wands, but they’re certainly magical.”

“I understand what you’re getting at.” Lieze replied, “Without sunlight’s kiss, these woods are a breeding ground of fables and superstitions. Just as the Gods rely on faith to maintain their power, so too are these ‘Wichts’ born from the collective fear of Elvenkind.”

“Very rational. Very sensible.” Baccharum nodded, “-And very powerful, too. Rationality is the blade that wounds superstition. But for as long as Akzhem’s darkness prevails, our minds will conjure fear around every corner.”

“If you say so.” Lieze blinked, “With an army like ours, I doubt we’ll have a reason to fear much of anything.”

“-Meaning if it vanished, you’d be terrified?”

“I wouldn’t be much of a necromancer without any thralls to command, would I?”

“It’s commendable to admit your weaknesses.” Baccharum replied, “But, Lieze…”

He came to a stop just ahead of her, and then there was silence. No marching, no laboured breathing, no incessant groaning. The peace was almost pleasurable. Almost. It only struck Lieze a second later that silence wasn’t natural in the slightest. She turned, and her heart entered a freefall, sinking right down into her guts. Not a soul lingered behind her.

“You shouldn’t have said that.” Baccharum remained still, “An admission - however small or innocent - is how it begins. Now we’re in for it.”

“...In for what?” She spun, “Where is everyone, Baccharum?”

The Elf was digging out one of the leafy parcels from a pouch at his waist. He snapped his fingers once, then twice, summoning a meagre flame at the tip of one fingernail with surprising difficulty. Soon, the pate of crushed mushrooms and roots within was smoking away and filling the air with an earthy aroma.

“I reckon they’ll be fine.” He said, “The Wichts are only interested in us, it seems. Though I’m not sure whether to consider that an honour or an omen.”

All of a sudden, she was as naked as the day her twitching body broke out of that terrible little capsule Sokalar had grown her in. The tidal swing from invincible to defenceless was almost enough to give her a headache. She lowered her hand and gripped the hem of her Bag of Holding, realising that her store of blood was now the only thing she could rely on.

“It’s just a matter of making ourselves out to be not worth the trouble.” Baccharum explained, “Just act as I act. This is not my first foray into the roots, but I did find myself wishing I’d never have to do it again.”

Lieze wondered what the others must have been thinking. Had she had Baccharum vanished in the blink of an eye, or was their transition into the strange realm of the Wichts a slow and subtle affair? Either way, she thought, they were alone.

“Wichts bore quickly. But they could inflict our end with just as much fickleness.” He continued, “Speak if they call; don’t ignore them, but refrain from giving your name or any other details. If you’re offered something, then you must take it with both hands and offer thanks. Absolutely - absolutely - do not attack them, no matter how dire the situation seems.”

“-Is this sort of thing a common problem here in Akzhem?” Lieze wondered.

“Only to those foolish enough to enter the roots. Children.” Baccharum exhaled through his nostrils, “Necromancers.”

“I’d rather deal with sprites than fend off another group of hidden Elves.” She replied, “Let’s move. I’ll trust your judgement, so see to it that we’re reunited with Drayya and the others.”

“Just remember what I told you.” He nodded, “Follow me.”

They wandered into the looming, leering darkness of the roots.