Nikhil's Job

Nikhil punishes a man who betrayed Kiarad by exorcising his soul.

"No! Please, no!  Stay away from me, I do not want to die!" the man looked helplessly up at me. He shook in fear.

"Surely you have heard of me," he only gave a whimper in response.  "You have violated the contract you hold with Kiarad and took advantage of the leniency he granted you."

He tried to crawl away from me, but I seized him by the neck and weakly pulled him back.  I placed the palm of my hand, which was still tender from the recent tattoo, against his forehead. Tears were streaming down his face.  He pleaded unintelligibly within his sobs.

"I challenge you, the one summoned by myself, to a battle of each our will," my incantation took hold of his soul and I won over him in half a second.  He lost consciousness and I proceeded to construct a ritual circle around his body.  It was simple--just for an extraction and escort.  Before adding to the circle I tied his hands together behind his back in case he had the chance to overpower me.

The exorcism called for ginger and the escort needed lavender. I followed the chalked lines with salt while adding chunks of ginger and petals of lavender on various intersections.

With my bone knife in hand, I walked around the circumference of the circle.

For convenience, the trick to performing both an exorcism and an escort consecutively is overlapping the two rituals.  Along with the Circle of Sealing, which is to be lined with salt, lavender, and ginger, a sacrifice of blood is to be made.  First, the necromancer casting the spell to add his blood to the center in order to initiate the exorcism since it is his own soul that performs the endeavor.  The difficulty of extracting the soul varied, but the process was excruciatingly painful for the victim nonetheless.  When someone dies, the spiritual bonding between the soul and body is broken naturally.  In the case of forcefully extracting the soul of a living human, the pain is immeasurable.  After the soul is ripped away, the blood of the extractee is needed.  That is when the escorting into the intended realm took place.

Right as I started the enchantment, my target slowly regained consciousness.  It took him a few seconds to gather his situation and in the midst of my casting, he begged at my feet.  "At this time, I give my blood to initiate the following ritual," I sliced the top of my hand and let the blood ooze out as I held it above the man.  He spewed petty pleas as my blood coated his face.

"Now I call to this noble soul before me," I circled behind him, "I summon your soul forth to be judged by me."  In that moment, I could feel his soul begin to quiver.  His pathetic antics ceased.

That phrase was something that I had not been able to bypass in my years of research.  The "judging" phase of the spell was important and I cut my losses and accepted that I was not able to develop a new method of exorcising.

I tugged at his soul with my own, causing it to become partially exposed from his being.  He produced unsettling gurgling noises.

"I judge thee false.  As a result, I grant the power unto myself to purge your body of your soul," I visualized my soul taking hold of his and separating it from his body.  I focused intensely, making sure as to not lose control.

My victim began to shake.  At first he groaned quietly, but soon after the moans turned into screams.

"I purge thee!" I said over his clamor.  "I purge thee!"

Despite his weak soul, it was not as easy as I had anticipated.  The difficulty I faced was partly a result of my lack of experience with casting this spell.  I pulled harder at his soul, now struggling to keep a solid hold.  He was then screaming at the very top of his lungs; his body began to twitch.  The twitches transformed into spams.  His entire body jerked; his jaw and eyes were wide open and the veins on his neck were raised.

"I purge thee!" I said once more over the violently convulsing body.

A few more moments passed and I felt his soul come free of the bond that held it to his body.  Before he had the chance to hit the ground, I grasped his head by his hair and wrenched his head back.

It was the time to begin the next ritual: "As I have given my blood, I now give the blood of this participant."  In a single, fluid motion, I swiped my blade across his neck.  His blood gushed and I released him.  Before continuing, I knelt onto my knees, placed my knife on the ground, and held my arms in front of me.  I ignored the stinging pain from the rocks that were digging into my legs.

"In order to guide the recently exorcised soul, I call it back to me."  Even though his soul was trapped within the circle, the statement was still necessary.  "I am inclined to guide this noble soul into the Nether."  I then prepared myself for the "drop."

"Now I open the veil."  The second I said this, everything around me went empty and numb.

Being in Nether is a sensation that cannot be described easily, if at all, in physical terms.  In this reality, there are four different realms.  There is the realm of the living, where humans and the earth exist.  It is considered the "Mother realm" because before time began it was the sole realm.  The other three realms, collectively called the Nether, are completely spiritual, meaning that only souls can dwell within them and only souls can exist there.  Two of the three are known by the majority of humans.  Necromancers call these two realms the Primary and the Haze.  By those of religious background and the ignorant, they are simply "heaven" and "hell."  The latter is a common belief which is completely false.  There are no fiery pits or fluffy clouds.  Along with that, the Nether are not located above or below the Mother.  All of the realms simply exist over the others in different planes.  The third Nether is dubbed as the Void.  Not many have heart of it, in fact, the Void is only known to necromancers and those who are closely associated with us.

"Navigating," for lack of a better word, between the Primary and Haze takes great skill.  It is because, since the Primary is the default realm where people's souls go when they die, which is why I needed to perform the second ritual.

Without much effort, I successfully escorted his soul into the Haze.  The feeling I got when I arrived was the usual uncomfortable, hostile one.  My victim's soul was still in shock and its form was eratic.

"Kiarad!" I shouted into the abyss.  The second I felt his presence, I backed out of the Nether ad into my body.

Slowly, my surroundings came into focus. I always hated when I first came back to that reality because everything was blank until my soul regained its bearings.

I felt a familiar soul nearby.  I retrieved my knife and stood; I wavered, my head light and fuzzy.  The cut on my hand had not yet closed and the amount of blood that I lost was enough to faze me.  I made my way to the area where my supplies were with blood dripping down my fingers.  The soul I sensed was Clarisse's.  Now that it was more clear, chills plagued my body.  Though the stagnant form of energy was known to me, it was in no way complacent.

"Burn the site," I told her.

"Let me dress your wound," she said.

"Burn the site," I repeated.

She also repeated herself, her voice retaining the same, unchanging tone.

With growing impatience, I rephrased my request, "Worry about my hand later, okay?  Right now I want you to burn the body and circle."  As I turned away from her she grabbed that hand.

I yelped and throbbing pain shot through my hand.  Profanities boiled behind my clenched teeth, though I held them back with much effort.  Clarisse maintained a steady grip until I agreed to have her clean and dress my injury.

I was not sure about her motivation for helping me beyond the bare-minimum.  She had no obligation to take care of me or do anything outside of her orders from Kiarad or myself.

My inability to read her was due to her...disposition.  Just as I was a necromancer, Clarisse was a phrenomancer.  My kind of sorcery dealt with souls and dead bodies.  My understanding of the rare practice was that it had to do with the human mind and emotions.  Unlike necromancy, this less-commonly known magic required a sacrifice from the mage.  In order to be able to cast and control this magic, the caster had to be, as it is called, "blank."  Before someone was able to even begin to comprehend phrenomancy, there was a ritual in which they needed to participate.  The ritual somehow takes away one's ability to produce or feel emotion.  The absence of emotions apparently makes the mages more rational, and thus they can make decisions and deal with their targets more effectively.

When Clarisse was finished bandaging my hand, she diligently set my former target's body on fire.  I lingered long enough for the pungent smell to reach my nose.

Author's Note

I've only really read through this like twice and I admit that there are probably oddities and such. This is the first extensive thing I've written within this story, so it's a bit exciting or something like that. Anyway, I hope that nothing is extremely confusing (this is supposed to be in the first chapter or so.) I tried to be somewhat explanitory of some things without being overbearing. I think I have problems with separating my paragraphs so if you have any tips or advice y'know.