Sam ran along the path, his ragged breath misting in the bitter cold air. The boys long slim legs where bare below the knees of what where once green trousers made for someone much younger, now so torn and small for him that they could hardly be called shorts. The pants where held up by a cord or thick rope around his waist tied in a double not. The only other piece of clothing on his body was long white rough cotton sleeved shirt stained by dirt and sweat flapping untucked, held closed by the single remaining button. A long silver chain looped Sam’s neck and a large copper pocket watch slapped against his chest with each long step he took. Sam’s bare skin was pale and tinted blue from the cold giving him a frail appearance at first glance, but with each stride the strong sinew of his muscles flexed and extended in his limbs as he propelled himself along much faster and with a good deal more grace then the average teenager. Sam was tall for his age and rail thin with close cut black hair that stood strait up stiff despite the shaking caused by the act of sprinting. He looked young for his age, closing in on his sixteenth winter but his green eyes shone with the confidence of someone much older.
The sun had dipped below the horizon less than an hour ago and the faint red tendrils of light where fading to the deep purple of dusk. Sam’s pale grey eyes stared fixedly ahead trying to make out the house in the distance. It would be another ten minutes of running barefoot before he would be across the safety of the threshold, but it would be less than eight before true darkness fell and they would be free to peruse him. Even now Sam felt them stirring on either side of the path. A dark kind of energy that buzzed in his ears and made his mouth taste of copper. The stone markers of the graves sped past his peripheral vision in one continues blur as he willed his body to move faster.
The path had been level but now that the house was close he knew it would begin to climb, to compensate Sam hunched his head down and dug into the last of his reserves willing himself faster. The last of the setting sun’s light faded and the outline of the house disappeared into the darkness behind it. A moment later a pale pinprick of light appeared in its place, cast by a candle in the second story window. The sound of his own heartbeat and intake of air filled Sam’s ears, he concentrated on the steady rhythm letting himself focus on his goal, now less than a hundred yards ahead. The gate was still open, its black iron bars stretching some 10 feet into the air.
“Just a little further” Sam told himself, “Focus on robbing that piece of dung of his victory…live”
The stone had not been there that morning, Sam knew as soon as he stepped on it. Every morning he would make the walk out and about the property tending to the path as part of his chores. He still had fresh cuts on his fingers from clawing out rocks from the frozen ground. He knew at once that Jake must have placed the stone there and now the heel of his right foot was spewing blood. Sam clenched his teeth and continued to run, his mind telling his body that stopping for any reason would be giving up his life.
He heard the grunts and wheezing of in the darkness, shuffling sounds behind him turned into uneven canters. The wetness of the noise gave it a raw fetid feeling and the buzzing in his ears intensified until he could almost feel his teeth vibrate in tune. The noises came closer as Sam ran past the gate…they were close much closer than ever before. With every last bit of mental presence he had left he suppressed the panic welling up inside him as he passed the gate and hurled it shut using it as a brace to push himself toward the open doorway of the house. Sam dived into the doorway rolling as he hit the wooden floor boards and sprang up facing the way he came.
Sam’s eyes where wide and fixed on the darkness framed by the rectangle of the door. The gate seal should have stopped them he thought clenching his teeth to keep them from chattering. I should have seen the blue lights by now.
The sounds where very close now less than a foot beyond the house door. This must be another part of the test, Jake must have taken the wards off the gate Sam thought. Well if he wants to play dirty then so will I.
Sam leapt forward until he was at the doors threshold. He drew his bleeding heel across the floor of the doorway forming a bright red line of the pale wood. He dropped to all fours and sketched the lesser run of blood with the greater rune of warding on his side of the line using more of the blood. He then leaped up and shouted.
“Avarte amegale torobarto!”
The line and the runes glowed blue and then purple, just as a hand missing three of its fingers tried to reach in. There was a blight spark and a wail of pain mixed with anger. The sparks continued to shower as more and more hands and feet where hurled at the opening, each repelled back with the same force it exerted on the barrier. Sam could feel his bones vibrating with each impact, the blood he used in the ward making a link from the barrier with himself. Every fiber of Sam’s body felt like lead and all he wanted to do was collapse, but the rune on the threshold was kept up only with his focused will. Sam’s vision blurred momentarily and he fought to stay upright. The sparse room he stood in was only furnished with a stuffed chair in front of the fire place with a low stool next to it with a glass of water on it. The fireplace was cold the fire long out leaving behind only burned chips of wood. There was a pile of fresh wood next to the door and beside it was coat rack with a small pouch dangling from the hat hook that was not damaged. Sam hobbled over to the coatrack and snacked the pouch of the rope. His eyes sparkled as he drew the sting holding tit closed and he saw the fine white salt. He ran for the fireplace and pulled out some wood chips dumping them into the glass of water along with the contents of the pouch. What he made was more sludge then liquid and he grabbed a handful from the glass. He turned towards the door, relief on his face. The sludge would act as a barrier to all magic and constructs like the soul trapped trying to gain entry. He could smear it with his blood and relax knowing he did not have to maintain his focused will to keep them at bay. Just then the Kitchen door burst open and a body shuffled out. The girl at least that’s what Sam guessed her to have been must have died in an accident because while her skin still looked unblemished by decay, she was missing half her right arm. He eyes where the pale white of the dead, unseeing. She moved towards his still as is by sent alone, hear nose held high and her mouth agape. Same dropped to all fours and smeared the salt and ash sludge around him into a circle. Before he completed the last line he used his free hand to wipe some blood of his heal and toss it at his attacker, muttering.
“Amarones!”
He closed the circle now and concentrated. The soul trapped girl smashed her functional arm on an invisible wall above the salt and ash line on the floor, drawing blue haze from where she hit that dissipated shortly after. Suddenly the doorway to the outside blinked a bright blue and dissipated letting the other soul trapped enter the house. The paid Sam no attention but instead headed for the gild construct. She didn’t even have time to turn to them before they fell upon her and started tearing her apart with their hands and teeth. Sam felt faint pain all over his body as the sympathy bonds he made with the construct using his blood transferred only dull signals of pain. Sam was thankful that the constructs nervous system became almost nonexistent after the body died.
Soon the body of the same construct was nothing more than smudges of wetness on the floor. Even though it was freezing Sam’s brow was now covered in sweat. He was still concentrating keeping the bond with his blood, now part of each of the walking corpse in the room. Suddenly the dead turned on each other and began to bite and claw one another. Sam watched as the large brutes took out the smaller ones until only one remained, barely moving, damaged in at least a dozen places by his kind. Sam finally dropped his spell and pulled the patch of his neck. He gripped it in his palm and stepped out of the circle smudging it on his way out. The last soul trapped tuned his head towards Sam and made a vain attempt to move toward him, but it was too damaged and too full of flesh it had greedily gorged itself on. Sam spun the chain slowly and as he closed with range whipped the corpse across its face with it. A faint line of pure burned flesh appeared where the chain had struck and the corpse wailed in pain. The initial lash was followed by at least a dozen more before the corpse stopped moving.
The door to the kitchen stood closed on the other end of the room and Sam shuffled towards it. The last of his strength was gone and he only stood upright by tapping into his anger at Jake. Sam was careful opening the door to the kitchen. The old brash hinges shrieked in protest as the door swung open revealing the shades of darkens in the room beyond. The window directly across from the door stood open letting the bitter cold air in. Taking a deep breath, Sam took a step in and let the door swing shut behind him. The adrenaline and fear that had kept him moving was spent and now the world was behind a hazy film in front of his eyes. He moved slowly to the windows and shut it. Turning back to the door Sam spotted the figure leaning on the wall between the door and the stairs to the second floor.
“Impressive” the figure said, “I’ve been doing this for almost a century and none of my children have made it to their examination much less come so close to passing it.”
Sam said nothing, he just stared at Jake the anger he felt rising in his chest was slowly bringing him back but he needed time. He knew Jake loved his little cruelties. So letting him gloat would at least by him a minute or two.
“What’s the matter?” Jake asked, “It cant be that for the first time since you were five you’re speechless. No snide remark? No sneer for your old man? Well that’s fine. Because right now it’s the final test. The shit out there was just the warm up. The undead constructs the spells where all nice, but now comes the real challenge.”
Jake stepped forward holding a caster wand in his hand. The brass finish of the long tube glowing a dull yellow. The ivery handle embossed with gold filigree curved itself around Jake's hand concealing a small button trigger. The cartage was already primed and ready to go. Sam knew that it was Death Kiss in there. Unlike most people who did their killing with fire fountain or shark’s teeth Jake liked his kills to be a little slower and a lot more painful for the victim. The blast would close up Sam’s airway and cause all his muscles to spasm hard enough to tear themselves or break bones. It would take at least a minute to die.
“Ready for the test? It’s simple” tittered Jake, “All you have to do is kill me. You said many times how you wish to do it…well its time. Kill me and you are an apprentice no more. You get to be a journeyman corpse keeper. You get to leave here for your grand tour. Isn’t that what you want? Common…on the count of three.”
Jake stepped forward again and leveled the caster and said,
“One”
“Two”
“Three!”
Jake's grin was stretched across his face as he pressed the trigger. Sam’s eyes widened with fear, but he didn’t move.
The casters barrel flashed white at the tip and was accompanied by a thundering boom of the ignition charge. Time flowed down for Sam and that moment, his heart hitting his ribcage in its manic beating. Tendrils of green light erupted from the joint between the handle of the caster and the barrel. The two came apart in an explosion that blew Jake’s fingers off before the lights enveloped his form.
In a second it all passed, the noise and the light. It took another few seconds for Sam’s eyes to adjust to the darkness again and he saw his old masters writhing on the floor his teeth clenched and foam dribbling out as he vainly tried to such down air though his ever diminishing wind pipe. While his back arched impossibly far and his joints popped with the dislocation from his seizing muscles.
Sam took a breath that he had been holding and steadied himself. He stared down at Jake. “You kept that thing in the same place for the last 13 years.” He said moving to stand over Jake. “I saw you cleaning it ever two days, I saw you using it at least 40 times. In all that time you still didn’t really know how it worked. You know it’s not a gun, there is no hammer that trikes an ignition charge. There is only a weak electric current to set it off and that means if someone takes the caster cartridge apart and swaps the charge and the payload it will shoot backwards.”
Jakes eyes where wide and getting wider, he looked like he was about to lose them to the floor. This is for Jim and Eric and Luther and for the others. When you die I’m going to plant you facing west and Im going to make sure the river is the north. You are going to rise with the rest of these constructs and you are going to roam these grounds trapped in your meat suit. And before I go I’m going to burn this house to the ground.
There had been over two dozen of them when Sam first arrived at the house just after his third birthday. He was dressed like the others, a short brown jacket covering the matching overalls and shirt. Clunky boots made of matched together hound hide on his feet. The outfit was the standard worn by ward of the state. During the last war when the airdromes dropped their deadly bombs on the capital city there where many orphans left with no one to take care of them. Jake the caretakers or the Isly bone yard would come and take the ones from the shelter that cost the least. The ones that looked frail and showed a low or no aptitude for the third eye or mana channeling. He would buy them from the orphanage for his work program. Every year he would take as many as there where left that no one wanted and he took them back to the house.
The conditions where brutal and the deaths started shortly after everyone arrived. The thriving business of post life servitude had been around for decades. The dead where reanimated with a combination on necromancy and technomancy. Their decayed bodies repaired with spare parts and wires. Cognitive capacities where drastically reduced but the typical zy slave was as strong as a grown man and could carry out simple instructions. Carry this lift that. For some extra coin the body could be augmented with extra muscle or some fresh brain tissue that would allow for better cognition and reflexes. The very top of the line zy slaves could string together words into basic sentences and served as butlers or body guards.
Before a new zy slave could be delivered to his or her new owner they had to be created from the flesh of those who sold it after death. The children would butcher the cadavers. Those that where the least rotted or had some good physical attributes where kept mostly intact and had any injuries sustained repaired with “spare parts”. The climate was fridgit and aided in their work by keeping decomposition down to a minimum. The children would be responcible for removing the spare body parts from corpses. Those old enough and with a steady hand got to spend time indoors stiching the new pieces onto the bodies. The temperature inside was still freezing most of the time but at least twenty degrees warmer then the outdoors and without a windshill. This was incenstive enough for the kids to practice sowing in their off time to make a good impression.
Sam was the only child to ever graduate to wiring and minor conjuration that restored bloodfow of the new constructs and provided nerve signals from the restored brain. Jake performed the really difficult magic and technomancy that stapled the soul to the dead flesh and revived the body to a working state.
Sam ran along the main cemetery path, his ragged breath misting in the bitter cold air. Ahead of him the ground was a sea of dazzling points of light as the last rays of the dying sunlight where reflected by the frost covering the short brown grass stretching away in either direction. Grave markers big and small dotted the landscape all around him, some in neat rows, and others clumped together or spread out with no discernible pattern. Other smaller paths crisscrossed throughout the cemetery all the way to the tree line several miles away.
The providence’s only cemetery was shaped like a bowl, with steep hills sloping down into the center. A massive 20 foot wall ran along the perimeter the grounds with a separate ring of tall oak trees spaced exactly 10 yards apart taking the second enclosure. Between the wall and the trees a man-made canal had been cut 6 yards wide. Diverted water from a nearby river flowed rapidly along the stone channel every 10 feet other channels took a portion towards the center of the cemetery grounds were collected in a moat around a three-story house built of brick and mortar.
Souls are tethered to their remains for one day and one night and are set free with the dawn. You can't harvest them after. People who die violently are harder to harvest and sometimes break free of their courpse before the time is up and are able to haunt at will.