"Carine - Baric" by Michelle Krantz

Carine took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, then nodded.

"Alright, then. Stay close to me, now." Baric rose from his seat on a large rock and walked purposefully toward the small stone house in the hazy afternoon sun.

Carine did as she was told and followed close behind. Young though she was, Baric felt she was ready to face this challenge. She had trained hard over the last year with a dedication even the Servant Masters of Chial had seldom seen. At only sixteen, and barely so, she would be the youngest to become a full Servant in nearly two centuries. If she could pass this final trial.

The stone house had no windows and only a single door visible on any side. The door itself was made of oak so weathered and gray that from a distance it was difficult to distinguish from the gray stone of the building itself. Baric knocked so heavily upon the door that Carine feared it would shatter, but the door held strong, emitting a solid wholesome sound with each rap.

She had thought it foolish at first, to announce oneself to those you had come to destroy. But it served a higher purpose. Nervous necromancers tended to summon their undead slaves when threatened. That created the perfect opportunity for the Servant, more often called "Death Giver" by the common people, to do just that; give death to the helpless souls trapped in the bodies he commanded. But it was also an easy way to be outnumbered. It was thin ice for all Servants. Ice some never dared to tread.

Baric frowned at the door and pounded three more times. "Usually there’s some sort of response by now."

Carine felt a familiar chill along her spine. The same one she had felt... She quickly banished the memory. "He’s summoning," she said quietly through gritted teeth.

Baric looked at her in surprise. "You’re that sensitive? Nevermind," he said, turning back toward the door with a wave of his hand. "We’re going in."

Though Baric was a rather large man, it took their combined efforts to force the door open enough to gain entrance to the necromancer’s hideout. "You’d think he was trying to keep someone out," Baric quipped as he squeezed himself through the opening.

"The party’s downstairs." Carine’s voice echoed her discomfort. She had felt the telltale vibrations through the soles of her feet from the moment she forced her way over the threshold.

"I do so love a party," Baric replied less than enthusiastically.

The ground floor was obviously unused. The remains of a hearth covered one wall and bits of wood from some type of furniture littered the floor. It took several minutes of searching to find the stairway, concealed behind hearth bricks and floor clutter.

Baric paused at the top. "Stay close to me until we know exactly what-"

"Himself and four others," Carine interrupted, concentrating on the dark emptiness of the stairs.

Baric stared at her in disbelief. If she was correct, she was the most sensitive Servant he had ever met. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. That was a subject for another, less dangerous time. "Then onward we go."

Carine’s felt her pulse quicken a bit. She knew this was her chance. And not just to become a Servant. She hoped that in surpassing this last obstacle she would not only leave behind her days of training, but her entire life up to that point. And all the nightmares that entailed.

She crept down the stairs behind Baric. She could feel the aura of the necromancer and those bound to him.

A flash of memory caught her by surprise. For an instant, she could see the people of her village preparing for the attack they knew they could not withstand. Men barricaded the town gate, while the women took the children into their homes, hoping to keep them from the eyes of their attackers.

In the blink of an eye she was back on the stairs, disoriented by the disturbance. It took a long moment to regain her senses in the near total blackness of the stairwell, but in the far corner of the room they were descending into she could see a dim light peeking around the corner.

They crept forward silently; even with their bold entrance, surprise was on their side.

Carine could feel their auras crawl along her skin as she followed Baric to the corner. They stopped with their backs against the last bit of wall between them and the necromancer.

"Why hasn’t he sent them out to find us? He knows we are here and no doubt inside by now," Carine whispered.

‘The group is too small. He doesn’t know how many of us there are and he cannot risk losing any of his small force as a scout." A momentary glint of steel was the only sign that Baric drew his massive spiked mace.

Carine followed suit and drew her short sword. She didn’t have the upper body strength to wield the mace efficiently. The slicing edge of the short sword did a bit of her work for her.

Baric reached behind him and squeezed her arm gently in the darkness. This was it. She had promised herself long before that she would either pass this trial or die trying. It was not the thought of death that frightened her, but the thought of being raised and bound for another life.

Necromancers could live for centuries.

"Now," was her only cue. They whipped around the corner together, weapons bared, and charged toward the enemies.

Carine concentrated on one goal at a time. One enemy at a time. First was a large undead, probably a male of good size once. Using her agility as she was taught, she easily out-maneuvered him, and took him down without a scratch to herself.

She moved on to the next opponent, a second undead. It, too, would have been easily dispatched, but for one thing. As Carine avoided a clumsy attack, she saw the face of their primary enemy.

She locked eyes with him instantly. "No," she whispered.

Suddenly she was in the village, hiding in the bushes. A tall man walked into the village square and recited an incantation. All around her, the dead people of her village rose, not of their own will, but to serve that of the necromancer.

Just as suddenly she was back in the room, deep in this necromancer’s lair. But still the tall man stood before her. That was why the aura had been so familiar. "It... you can’t…"

Terror froze her body as she realized that she stared into the face of her tormenter. Dimly, she heard the sharp sound of metal on the stone floor and knew she had dropped her sword. She was unable to move, even to turn away from his face. Her breathing became labored and shallow. But small part of her mind wondered if he even knew the emotional agony he inflicted upon her. After that moment, all but her terror was forgotten.