The Keeper of Corpses [Novemeber Short] Frith Chronicles

Hey guys!

Here is the Nov short story (as told from the viewpoint of Ezril and his eldrin, the Keeper of Corpses). 

I think you'll need to have read Arcanist Fables for this (since Ezril is a character there) but if you haven't, this is still a story you can understand.

I'm going into surgery today. Wish me luck.

THE LONG ROAD

Ezril Rivers

I had thought that becoming an arcanist would cure me of my ailments.

Sadly, I had been mistaken.

My trek to the ocean city, Port Rowind, pained me each and every step. My lungs were furnace bellows with holes, wheezing and protesting with each deep breath. My heart beat at odd times, fluttering from the strain.

I had a good leg, though. It never failed me, even if every other part of my body suffered from extreme bouts of pain. I preferred to focus on that. I preferred to be positive.

I could walk.

I was an arcanist.

And now I was finally on an adventure.

My whole life, since my misfortune of a birth, had been spent in the quiet fisherman’s village of Mableville. I thought I’d never leave—I thought it was my prison—but ever since I had bonded with the Keeper of Corpses, I was free. Or at least strong enough to travel without too much to worry about.

Yes… Strength. That was the gift the Keeper of Corpses had given me.

“I’m just going to call you Keeper from now on,” I said aloud. “Keeper of Corpses is too long.”

No one answered. The only sounds on the long road were the squeaks of the wagon wheels, the huffs of our two horses, my strangled breathing, and Trent’s grumbling.

That was it.

My tiny village didn’t have much to spare, but after I became an arcanist, they had given me a wagon, a tent, supplies for a week, two of the oldest horses the world had ever seen, and Trent. Well, Trent brought himself along. I didn’t ask for him by name—he had volunteered.

I didn’t mind. Trent and I had lived in the same medicine house, after all. I knew him well, and while he was insufferable at times, I knew his intentions were in the realm of honorable. Technically, he had been my rival in the Trial of Worth for Keeper. I had won—obviously—but now I felt obligated to see Trent bond with some other mystical creature.

Perhaps we would find one before we reached Port Rowind.

“Where is your eldrin, Ezril?” Trent asked, glancing around. He sat atop the driver’s seat on the wagon, even though his legs were in perfect working order.

The woods on either side of the road were thick with shadows. I stared at the darkness, but I couldn’t see beyond them.

“He’s around here somewhere,” I said as I limped along. “You needn’t worry.”

“It’s just the two of us, and bandits are known to stalk this road.”

It was funny that he was worried. Trent had the classic appearance of a hero. Square jaw. Blond curly hair. Muscles clearly seen under his tunic. Well, not completely the hero… Trent was missing his right arm from the elbow down. And he had scars on the right side of his face.

Gnarled scars.

“We’ll be fine,” I said, optimistic.

“You haven’t even mastered your magic yet.”

“First off, it takes most arcanists years to master their magic. Secondly, I’ve been practicing.” I held up a hand and twisted my wrist. “Keeper says I’ve gotten better.” Black dust wafted off the palm of my hand.

I evoked decay and weakness.

The dust traveled on the wind and landed on nearby grass and flowers. The vegetation withered and died a slow and painful death. I didn’t like practicing because everything I used it on perished. Did the woods around my hometown deserve to rot away? Did the shrubs on our trek really deserve the death I brought to them?

Trent swished back his windswept hair. “Just remember to use all that disgusting evocation on anyone who tries to mess with us.”

I nodded once—I understood why Trent was frightened. His scars and missing arm had come from pirates. Unlike me. All my problems had come from birth. In Trent’s mind, the world was a dangerous place, waiting to take things from you, even limbs.

But me…

The world had given me life anew.

I figured Trent would feel the same once he bonded with something.

We continued down the long road in relative silence. The horses walked slow, which was perfect for me. Trent gripped the reins tight, his knuckles white. The darkness between the trees was a bit unnerving, I had to agree.

“Hey there!” someone called out, breaking me out of my thoughts.

I glanced down the road. A single woman stood on the side of the road, her hand waving from side to side. She wore a plain blue dress that covered her from her neck down to her feet.

Her hair…

It was tied in a messy bun, her golden-brown locks flowing in the gentle breeze.

Trent relaxed a bit, his grip loosening and a smile spreading on his lips. “Do you see that?” he whispered down to me.

“Yes,” I sarcastically replied. “My eyes still work just fine.”

“Let me do all the talking. You’re too abrasive.”

“What?”

Our wagon took its sweet time rolling over. The woman didn’t hurry toward us, or even move. She waited until we drew near, and then she stepped in front of our older horses.

“Hello,” she said, her voice upbeat. “I see you two are traveling.”

Trent sat a bit taller. He turned so that the good side of his face was positioned toward the woman. “We are traveling. Good observation.”

Good observation? I almost wanted to roll my eyes. If she had said, the sky is blue, I’m sure Trent would’ve popped back with, what insight and perception! A genius of your time to notice such a detail!

But I kept my sarcasm to myself. That was “abrasive,” apparently.

The woman offered a giggle in response, her eyes shifting from Trent to me. When she noticed my forehead, her eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

“Are you… an arcanist?” she asked.

I nodded once.

Most arcanists had a mark on their head. Mine was unusual, however. Other arcanists had a star with seven points, but mine was a star with nine points. The creature wrapped in the star was a patchwork wolf, made of various body parts, but most people wouldn’t be familiar with it.

The Keeper of Corpses was one of a kind. No other arcanist like me existed.

“And there’s just the two of you?” the woman asked, tilting her head to the side, similar to a terrier dog.

“Do you need something?” I asked.

Trent huffed and then jumped down from the driver’s seat of the wagon. His legs were in great working shape, and he landed with a bit of finesse. It would’ve been impressive, if he hadn’t stumbled a bit and flailed his half-arm around to get his balance.

“Don’t listen to my glum companion,” Trent said. “He demands to know things all the time. You can just ignore him and direct all your questions to me.”

The woman’s gaze lingered on my thin arms and misshapen leg. Not my good leg. No, she didn’t care about that. Just the parts of me that were deformed.

She must’ve seen my expression, because she shook her head and then waved her hands. “I’m so sorry, lord arcanist. I didn’t mean to stare.”

“It’s fine,” I drawled. “I amrather unique.”

That caused her to genuinely smile.

Trent scoffed as he crossed his arms, no doubt hating every moment. When the woman turned to face him, he quickly slapped on a smile. “My name is Trent. And my arcanist friend is Ezril. We’re on our way to Port Rowind.”

“What a coincidence,” the woman said, her eyes brightening. “I’m on my way there as well! Would you mind if I travelled with you? This rod is filled with bandits, and I’d hate to run into them when the sun goes down.”

“Of course,” Trent said before even consulting with me. He hurried around to the back of the wagon and cleared a small spot. “You can sit here.”

I shot him a glare. Trent returned my look with an icy glower.

Earlier, Trent had said only one of us could ride on the wagon at a time. The horses are too old, he had said. We need to conserve their strength.

“My name is Tiffy,” the woman said as she released her golden-brown hair from the bun. It was long enough to fall down the length of her back. “Thank you so much. You two are ever so kind.” Then she took her seat on the wagon and waved to us, her eyes alight.

Trent walked over and smirked. “See? Now we have company.”

I held my breath. Tiffy offered me another wave of her hand. I waved back, but only out of politeness.

I didn’t trust her.

Trent moved me toward the driver’s seat of the wagon. “Look, I know you’re mad, but why don’t you take a seat, huh? I’ll walk and keep the girl company.”

“I—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Trent interjected. “I already know what you’re going to say. I don’t trust her. You’re so predictable.”

Once again, I found myself rolling my eyes. “Okay. If you want to watch her—fine. I’ll stay up here, you walk along the road with her.”

Trent patted my shoulder. “Thank you.”

It didn’t remove my worry, however.

The Keeper of Corpses

I watched the main road from the darkness of the trees, lurking about like only a monster could. My arcanist—Ezril River—dragged himself onto his wagon cart and took a seat next to the horses.

The beasts of burden amused me. They were so close to death, each breath they exhaled stank of the grave. It was only through my magic that they continued to live.

Soon, Ezril would have it, too. We could augment life and death, and keep people on the ragged edge of mortality, even if they would normally die. But my arcanist was too young. He needed time to master his new abilities. For now, he would practice his evocation.

The wagon continued on, and I stayed close, but far enough away to remain hidden. My body was too large to prowl the road. I was made of corpses stitched together with magic, each body part connecting to another with muscles, tendons, magic thread, and bone. Different body parts of animals and humans were twisted together to form my wolf-shaped body.

They once called me the Charnel Hound, but now I am known as the Keeper of Corpses.

Keeper, now. It was shorter.

Ezril Rivers

Port Rowind wasn’t too far away, but it would require two more days of hard travel.

When night descended, I urged the horses off the side of the road and onto a flat patch of grass under three large oak trees. In order to set up the tent, we’d need clear ground. I decided to try out my evocation.

With a wave of my hand, the black dust settled onto the vegetation. The blades of grass withered and died, leaving us nothing but dirt. To my fascination, the dust eventually disappeared. I had never read much about arcanist powers, but Keeper had told me that an arcanist’s evocation didn’t last long.

Trent and Tiffy dragged the tent off the wagon and carried it over to the clearing. Tiffy giggled as she held her end of the tent with ease.

Even though Trent only had one arm, he was more than capable of carrying the heavy equipment. He had been strong most of his life, and I think it bothered him to “grow weak” after his injury, so he went out of his way to make sure it never happened.

“You’re so strong,” Tiffy said with a smile.

Trent plopped the tent down on the grass and smirked. “I am quite capable.”

Then Tiffy turned to me. She placed a finger on his lower lip. “Where’s your eldrin?”

“He’s around here somewhere,” I said with a shrug.

“Aren’t you worried?”

“No.” I walked over to the tent, trying hard not to limp around—I just wanted to walk normal. “Keeper will be okay out in the woods.”

Tiffy’s eyes went wide. “Really? What kind of magical powers does your creature have? Do you have any abilities you can show me?”

For a brief moment—brief—I felt a flutter of my heart. I caught my breath, wondering if I was just deformed, or if this was the feeling of butterflies everyone always spoke about.

No one had ever looked at me like Tiffy just had. Not even the people of my village. They had considered Keeper a terrible omen. Keeper had killed several of them, after all. And he was rather intimidating.

Tiffy seemed genuinely interested in me and my powers, without the usual fear that lingered on the breath of everyone who spoke to me. Well, Trent was never fearful, but still.

“I haven’t mastered many of my powers,” I said, almost sheepishly.

“He just bonded with his mystical creature,” Trent said as he assembled the tent. “He’s barely got his evocation down.”

“So your creature is a baby?” Tiffy made a cute d’aww noise. “Now I really wish I could see it.” She patted my arm and laughed. “You had me thinking it was spooky looking.”

Keeper was spooky looking, but I wasn’t about to correct her. Tiffy was the first person to touch my shoulder without flinching or grimacing. I… was ashamed to admit that it made me feel special.

I shook the thought away.

Special?

Ha!

Normal people did that all the time. I was an arcanist now. I was one of the highest elites—a ageless ruler meant to watch over the world and help it through the tough times. Why would people fear me? Or think me disgusting? That was a phase of my life long behind me. I was Ezril Rivers the Keeper of Corpses Arcanist. Powerful. Influential.

It made me smile to think a simple touch from another human being caused me so much inner struggling.

“Are you okay?” Tiffy asked.

We stood so close, I could see her eyes were a shade of emerald green.

“I’m fine,” I whispered, though it wasn’t intentional. I cleared my throat and said, “I’m just contemplating a few things.”

She nodded a few times, and then frowned. “Hey, I’m going to find a bush really quick, okay? I need to… Uh… You know.” Her cheeks turned a shade of red.

Which caused me to blush in return. “Oh. Yes. Nature calls.”

Tiffy turned and headed into the darkness of the nearby woods.

“Don’t go too far,” Trent shouted after her. Once she was gone—and we could no longer hear her footsteps—Trent turned to me. “Don’t go getting any ideas.”

“What ideas?”

“I know you. That mind of yours spins in bizarre ways.” He used a small hammer to nail the corners of the tent in place. “You don’t trust her, remember? Leave her to me. I’m going to befriend her.”

I said nothing. Instead, I returned my attention to the darkness. Part of me still didn’t trust her. I knew why.

It was precisely because she didn’t flinch away from me.

She wanted us to like her.

But why?

The Keeper of Corpses

There she was.

Out in the woods.

All by herself.

I didn’t like the way she smelled, or the way she moved. This strange woman had been waiting on the side of the road for someone to come by, but my arcanist hadn’t bothered to ask why.

Tiffy. That was her name.

She glanced around the shadows, her eyes wide. But she couldn’t see me. The stench of my undead body no doubt lingered on the air, but her sight was useless. With shallow breaths, Tiffy continued into the woods, following a well-worn path of her own making.

Five men were waiting for her. Each carried a pistol, a knife, a sack, and an unlit lantern. Their horses waited off the woods, barely making any noise. I could feel their heartbeats, though. The horses waited in the dark, knowing I was close, but unable to voice their fears to their riders.

Tiffy wasn’t surprised when she spotted the five men. Instead, she seemed relieved.

“What took you?” one man said, his face scruffy and his hair matted with oil. “We’ve been waiting for two days.”

“I found travelers,” Tiffy whispered. “Two of them. One is an arcanist.”

The men scoffed and made irritated remarks. Then the first one spoke again. “We told you no arcanists. We can’t deal with them.”

“But this one is young! He hasn’t mastered his powers. We can kill him, and then capture his eldrin. It’s not even with me. His creature is out in the woods somewhere.”

I was a corpse. I didn’t need to breathe. I didn’t need to move.

So I didn’t.

I remained perfectly still in the darkness, listening to the bandits with sadistic amusement. Even though I was larger than most horses, my body was hollow and empty. I crumpled into a pile of decay, unnoticeable to most.

The men chuckled and smacked each other on the shoulder. “We could see a mystical creature for a lot of coin.”

“Or we could bond with it,” another said.

“Or take it to the mystic seekers, get some magical items,” another chimed in.

They wanted to sell me? How quaint.

“Here,” one of the bandits said. He thrust a knife over to Tiffy. “Take this. Stab the arcanist while he sleeps. It’ll make him stiff. Careful now. The edge is laced with poison.”

Tiffy nodded as she carefully tucked the knife into the stockings under her dress. “Anything else?”

“Just make sure the arcanist is down. We can kill the other one.”

“Perfect.”

The men and the woman exchanged a few good lucks before parting ways. I found it interesting as I watched Tiffy go. She fidgeted with the poisoned blade before hustling back toward my arcanist.

Did she really think she could harm me or Ezril?

I couldn’t wait to show her what a mistake she had made.

Ezril Rivers

Trent finished setting up the tent and then offered me a smirk. “Perfect, right? I’m getting good at this.”

The tent was wonderful. Perfectly done. The stakes were secure, the cloth tant. Even with one arm, Trent managed to make the tent correctly each time we had stopped. The only problem was that the tent was designed for two people. Three people could be inside, but it would become a pile, then.

Trent must have realized this problem, too. He stared at the tent, and then glanced over at me. “You don’t mind sleeping in the wagon, right?”

I narrowed my eyes. “You want to sleep next to Tiffy?”

“I can keep her warm.”

“Don’t you think you should ask her what she prefers?”

With a scoff, Trent said, “Are you going to get angry and jealous when she picks me?”

I wanted to shoot back with something sarcastic, but our conversation was cut short. Tiffy finally returned from the woods, her expression downcast. She brightened back up the moment she spotted me and Trent, but a hint of darkness remained in her smile, even afterward.

“There you two are,” she said with a sigh. “I was afraid I had gotten lost… It’s so dark out there.”

Trent leapt to her side and nodded. “It is. And there are bandits, so you should stay close.”

“You’re right.”

Then Trent motioned to his tent. “Are you tired? We have a place to sleep now.”

Tiffy’s smile widened. “You did such an amazing job.”

“Thank you.” Trent swished back his blond hair.

“It doesn’t look very big, though.”

Now the terrible moment was upon us. Trent was right. Tiffy wouldn’t want to sleep next to me. I was deformed and awkward. Trent—while scarred and missing an arm—still moved and acted like a man in his prime.

“I’m going to sleep in the wagon,” I said, jutting my thumb over my shoulder. “Someone has to watch the horses.”

Trent gave me a slight smile of appreciation. He hadn’t realized I had done it to save myself the humiliation.

When I turned to walk away, Tiffy held up a hand. “Wait.” She stepped closer. “Do you mind if… I stay on the wagon as well? Horses are my favorite animal, and I’m not really fond of tents.”

I didn’t glance over at Trent. I already knew how he felt about all this.

“Uh, are you sure?” I asked. “The wagon is cold. And stiff.”

Tiffy walked to my side and smiled. “We can keep each other warm.”

Again, I was struck with a flutter of the heart. Those damn butterflies were battering my insides. Why wouldn’t they leave me in peace?

Then Tiffy laced her arms around mine. We walked over to the back of the wagon, far from Trent and the lonely clearing. Tiffy even steadied my walking, never making fun of me for it, or even hinting at disgust or shame for my movements.

When we reached the wagon, we both took a seat on the back.

Tiffy scooted closer. As a nervous tic, I slipped my hands into the pockets of my trousers. She seemed to think that was amusing. Tiffy placed her hand on the top of my pocket, directly over my hand.

“You don’t have to be so distant,” she said. “I know I’m not an arcanist, like you, but I think I’m a pretty good conversationalist. C’mon. Let’s just talk for a bit.”

No one had ever done anything like she had before.

And while I enjoyed the attention—more than I wanted to admit—this had gone on long enough.

I pulled my hand out of my pocket, away from her touch. “Tiffy. I think you should go. Before it’s too late.”

Again, she tilted her head like a little terrier. “What do you mean?”

“I mean—I don’t want to hurt you. Please leave, before things get ugly.”

Her expression hardened. “What’re you saying? Are we in danger?”

“No.” I turned to her, cold and serious. “We aren’t in danger. Just you.” I held up a hand before she could speak. “At first, I thought you were a simple thief. If you stole from us, that wasn’t too hefty a price, so I didn’t protest you joining. But now I can see you’re more than that. You’re here to do something. Hurt us in some way.”

“What makes you say that?” Tiffy asked, no emotion in her tone.

I shrugged. “Small things. One after another. The way you phrased things, the way you compliment me and Trent. But the biggest warning sign was when I told you I was a fledgling arcanist. You got excited.”

“So?”

“You said you joined us for protection from the bandits. If you were really afraid of the blackhearts in the woods, you wouldn’t be happy to hear I had just bonded with my eldrin. You wouldn’t be happy to hear I barely knew my abilities. You should’ve been worried.” I shrugged. “That was when I knew. You’re here to hurt us. You might even be one of the bandits.”

For a long moment, Tiffy didn’t move. Then—with slow movements—she lifted up the bottom of her dress and rubbed at the stocking on her leg. “Why aren’t you attacking me, then?” she asked.

That…

Although I didn’t want to answer honestly, I figured she deserved a straight answer. “I really appreciate the attention you’ve given me. It was… nice. To feel normal. Even if it was all pretend.”

Tiffy stopped fidgeting with her stockings. She bit her lip, and then glanced off into the darkness.

“I think you should go,” I said. “Before it’s too late.”

She glanced back at me. “You think a fledgling arcanist who can barely walk can handle a group of bandits?”

“I don’t think. I know.”

Perhaps it was the tone in my voice, but Tiffy seemed convinced. She slid off the back of the wagon, still a little shaken by the encounter.

That was when I heard the snap of twigs. Our old horses neighed and stomped their feet once. I glanced to the road and found two men approaching. They carried pistols and knives and chuckled to themselves.

Ah.

Our bandits.

The Keeper of Corpses

There they were. Filth pretending to be human.

Three men advanced on the tent first. They carried knives and guns, but those were weapons for the living, not for a lord of the undead. When they lifted their pistols to get an aim at my arcanist’s companion, I was done with hiding.

Trent, I think his name was, noticed the men as I stalked forward.

“Hello?” he asked the darkness. “Is… someone there?”

But the men didn’t need to answer. They took aim with their pistols.

I lunged from the darkness, my maw opened wide. One man turned and fired on me, his bullet hot as it tore through the rotted flesh of my shoulder. Then I sank my fangs around him, my teeth crunching through his soft body. Rot spread my touch, ensuring he would die quickly—either from blood loss or entropy, either way.

The second man turned and fired.

The third—what a coward—ran into the woods.

I crunched the first man, allowed his limp body to fall from my mouth, and then bit at the second, removing the man’s arm in a single snap of my fangs. He screamed, alerting everyone to the attack, but that didn’t matter.

There was no escape now.

I bit the second man again, this time in the chest. He crumpled in my maw, unable to do much. I think he used his knife, stabbing up into the roof of my mouth, but my undead flesh didn’t feel much.

Once I was certain he would die, I turned and headed for the third man who thought he could run. I was much larger than he was, and familiar with the terrain. I also wasn’t panicked, which hindered the blackheart’s speed.

When I reached him, I bit him from the side, like a poisonous snake. My fangs pierced his skin, allowing my rot to spread, but I didn’t bite hard enough to kill. The man stumbled off into the woods, my “venom” in his body now. He would never escape. He would slowly die somewhere, in the darkness, forgotten by all.

I ran back to the wagon, intent on killing the other three bandits, but when I arrived, I saw that my arcanist had already killed two himself.

The two men who had advanced to the back of the wagon had rot and decay over their faces. Ezril remained sitting on the wagon, his expression neutral.

The woman was still with him.

That trickster who thought she could harm my arcanist.

When I emerged from the wood, she turned with wide eyes, taking in my terrible visage.

I snarled and flashed my fangs, ready to kill her as well.

Ezril Rivers

“Wait, Keeper,” I said, holding up a hand to my eldrin.

He was so tall and imposing—I could understand why Tiffy would be fearful. The Keeper of Corpses was from a time long forgotten, like an ancient creature only whispered of in strange books. His wolf-life body was a patchwork of dead bodies. The arms of humans were used as his joints, the antlers of dead deer were part of his ribs, and his claws were sharpened bones from large prey, like elk or caribou.

“What is that?” Tiffy breathlessly asked, her eyes wide.

“My baby eldrin,” I said.

I smirked, amused by my own deceptions. I had intentionally allowed Tiffy to think my eldrin would be weak. It was a test, to see if she really was some sort of terrible bandit. I had been right, of course. It was easy to trick people when they wanted to see a certain reality.

Keeper moved forward, his mouth open.

I slid off the back of the wagon and stepped between him and Tiffy. “It’s okay. I’m going to let her go.”

“Such a foolish action,” Keeper said, his dark and powerful voice ringing through the woods. “Kill her now. Humanity will be better for it.”

Despite his logic and his imposing presence, I shook my head. I knew what she was, but I still intended for her to go. Perhaps she would learn from this.

“Please, Keeper,” I said. “Just this once.”

“Never let the enemy feel secure, my arcanist. They will haunt your every step, I guarantee.”

I turned to Tiffy and motioned to the road—beyond the corpses of her two companions. “Go. Before Keeper changes my mind.”

She nodded once, and whispered, “Thank you.” Then she took off down the narrow pathway, back into the darkness. I figured I’d never see her again. We’d never return to this road, and even if we did—she’d remember our strength.

Trent came stumbling around the wagon, his hands shaky.

“Your eldrin killed a bunch of—”

Then he got a good look at the bodies.

“Where’s Tiffy?” he asked.

“She ran off,” I replied. “I think she’ll be okay, though. Keeper said he saw a house nearby. A kind elderly couple lives there.”

Although disappointed, Trent asked no more questions. Perhaps he could sense my lie, and didn’t want to press me. Trent was a lot smarter than he let on sometimes. I suspected he just wanted to believe the girl wasn’t a threat.

“So, should we keep going?” Trent asked.

Keeper exhaled, his breath nothing but putrid rot and foul odors. “We should stay for a bit. My arcanist, it’s time you learn you can manipulate corpses. Here, we have a few for you to try.”

Trent shuddered. Then he backed away, his one arm raised. “I’ll be in the tent.”

I smiled, and he returned it.

Just a few more short days until we reached the coast…

Tiffy

I stumbled through the woods, confused and disorientated. I never should’ve messed with an arcanist, but greed had gotten the better of me. Even now, as I made my way through the dark, I knew how I could turn this to my advantage.

The Second Ascension had been paying good coin for information about rare creatures.

Nothing was as rare as that… corpse wolf.

They’d give me plenty of coin for info on its whereabouts.