Zerrol, Part Two; Aktars Introduction

The second part of my novel(?)

I used to have strings… what is the rest of that? Aktar being alone with nothing but his thoughts had him pondering for quite a while on this matter. Even as his skeletal body performed lazed task after lazed task for his black-robed master he continued to wonder. Even as he sat in darkness for hours on end, it was all he could seem to wonder. His mind had been consumed with this question. Time seemed to pass without consequence while he pondered.

How long had it been since his death? Days? Years? Decades? Those thoughts were secondary yet to the obsession with the verse. I used to have strings…

Before his demise he was a great warrior in his time. Killing countless men, slaying countless beasts, lusting after countless women. Aktar the Butcher they had called him. Occasionally Aktar thought back on those days in fondness, however he soon found himself pondering the verse again, no matter how often he remembered the good old days.

The Butcher has come to kill us all, whispered a mocking voice in his head. I’m shaking in my boots. Those shards had always come and gone, they never stayed for very long though. I used to have strings… hmm…

Through his haze Aktar saw his master performing a ritual over his table. He had a troubled look on his round face. He kept saying the words “Climb down” and “Just die.” It didn’t seem to concern Aktar. So he went back to his pondering.

Soon after Aktar began to worry about the verse and its significance, his master began to scream. It looked as though he was in pain. Aktar was not given verbal command to help him. So he thought it best to wait.

A purple light flashed from the necromancers table. So it had begun. And The Butcher was awoken. Aktar began to see all the mistreatment he’d had over the years while enslaved to this necromancer. He’d be humiliated, bullied, beaten. But worst of all, the wizard hadn’t even used him for what he did best. Perhaps, I ought to show him.

If dust made noise, Aktars’ new voice was that sound. Nonetheless he made his point as he reached for the nearby arming sword.

“I used to have strings but now I’m free…” The necromancer looked back with a mixture of fear and shock. “There are no strings on me.”

The blade was struck against him time and time again. Almost like clockwork. The necromancers cries were auditory for the first few strikes. But he soon passed out due to the pain. Slightly later he died from his wounds. After he was sure the wizard was dead, Aktar discarded the sword by depositing it firmly in the throat of the fresh corpse.

Aktar now looked around his surroundings with a conscious eye. The tower was made from black brick. At least he assumed it was a tower from the seemingly unending staircase behind the necromancers mangled corpse. At the center of the room, was a black table. It had a dragon motif and the legs were shaped like dragons. Atop the table was a large bowl made of silver. In it he saw water, and what appeared to be a vision of a man. In a black leather outfit, with a blade over his shoulder. He appeared of slightly below average height with a well-groomed beard that was relatively short. Aktar touched his jawline where his once impressive beard had been. With no flesh to grow on, he knew it would never be there again. Why was the wizard watching this man?

Aktar began his descent into the tower. He knew the necromancer would have his previous belongings in the tower somewhere. They were - after all - of superb quality. The floor below where he was previously was filled with racks that had shackles on them. Presumably some sort of torture chamber. Luckily there were no people in it to worry about seeing him in this revolting form. He continued his trek downwards. There were dozens of rooms. Including one which he assumed was the mage’s bedroom. He walked inside this room and began to search. Wizards were known for the enchanted items they hid from the world after all.

Eventually he pulled the dresser back and a leg snapped off. Revealing three things that slipped out from the hollowed out space. A ring, a tiny metal bar and a scroll.

The ring was masterfully worked, however appeared simple. A small tourmaline adorned the top and was attached to a silver band. However upon further inspection Aktar realized the band was in fact made of platinum. One of the most powerful magical conductors a mage could work with. Typically he would have smiled at this realization, however the lack of facial muscles simply meant his bones creaked with what would have been a chuckle. Slipping the ring onto his finger, he felt newly invigorated. As if the years of hard labour he had endured under the necromancer were healed in seconds. Appreciative to have found this, he next grabbed the scroll.

After unrolling the scroll he knew instantly it was some sort of spell. He recognized the Draconic runes, however he did not know how to read them. He inspected the parchment further, and with each shift in the paper the runes seemed to shift colors. He put it inside what scraps of clothes the necromancer had put him in. Behind his ribcage.

Picking up the bar and seeing the top told Aktar what it was instantly. It was a skeleton key. Ironic.. The key’s end would take the form needed to unlock any door. Including locks that had been enchanted, or otherwise magically fortified. A powerful enchantment. To his knowledge there was only 3 of these in existence at the time of his prime. However, to his count it had been 57 years since he had been brought back. Without a clue how long he had been dead, it left him with even less of a clue as to how long it had been since he had last walked this earth free. Atop the bar, was a skull with bat wings coming out of the side. Aktar put it in his boot.

That ought to be it in here. However my things must be somewhere in this cesspool.

He continued his search through the tower. Pleasantly humming the tune he had been fixated on for so long.

~~~

Author's Note

The second part of my novel(?), once again, please point out any grammatical errors, or points where anything feels too forced/clunky.

Thank you for your time.