Page 48 of The Necromancer's Prisoner

Iggie stepped up, curious what the paladin had noticed. That’s when the smell hit him. He’d spent enough time around corpses to recognize the putrid odor. It was fresher than he was used to, however, and he couldn’t stop himself from retching.

Beyond the door lay a small entryway, with a hall leading deeper into the house. Iggie swallowed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Should we, uh…”

After a brief hesitation, Alistair nodded and stepped inside, his face paler than usual. Dawnflame erupted around his sword as he drew it, and Iggie flinched back from the golden haze. Annoyance laced him at his impulsive reaction. He didn’t expect Alistair to attack him—not anymore. Still, old fears died hard.

With Alistair’s dawnflame lighting the way, they crept down the hall until it opened into a small living space and kitchen. Several more doors branched off from it, but Iggie froze in the entryway, studying the corpse splayed across a wooden chair.

His lunch rose in his gullet at the sight of congealed blood, and he forced his eyes away, trying to steady his breathing. “Is that Julian?”

Alistair reached the body in several quick strides. Iggie determinedly looked anywhere else. “I think so,” the paladin said after a moment. “It’s a bit hard to tell, but the descriptions I gathered around town seem to match. There’s a dagger lying here by his feet.”

“Well, I guess that explains why he hasn’t shown up for work.” Iggie hated the faint tremble in his voice. “Do you think Matrim did this to him?”

Alistair eased back from the body, moving over to stand beside Iggie. Iggie focused on the paladin’s honeyed gaze, grateful for a distraction.

“I don’t know. Based on the timing, Julian must have diedafterMatrim’s disappearance. But if they’re collaborating on some plot, it’s possible Matrim returned here at some point. Perhaps Julian got cold feet…or Matrim was tying up loose ends.” Frustration creased his forehead. “Either way, we’ve lost our best lead.”

“Not necessarily.” Iggie started toward the nearest door, keeping his eyes straight ahead. “We still have the rest of the house to search.”

The stench of death hung in the air, nearly overpowering, but that wasn’t what made him shudder as he passed Julian’s corpse. He’d smelled similar exhuming bodies to raise as undead. No, what sent bile churning in the back of his throat was the thought of all that pooled blood staining Julian’s clothes and the floor a dark crimson.

An amused snort came from behind him. “I still find the thought of a squeamish necromancer hard to fathom. I’d think you’d be used to corpses by now.”

Iggie paused with a hand on the door. He kept his back to the room, a grimace marring his features as his disgust warred with embarrassment. “Death, I can handle. It’s reminders of mortality—of how easy it is to have your life snuffed out in a pool of red—that I can’t stand.” Remembering how Alistair had hesitated at the front door, he added, “I’m surprised that a Knight would treat death so cavalierly.”

Heavy footsteps announced Alistair’s approach. Iggie swallowed, his pulse quickening as Alistair halted right behind him. “I pray for Julian’s soul the same I would anyone who passed from this life to the next. But while I don’t relish the sight here, it doesn’t bother me as much as it should.” He hesitated, his voice growing softer. “After all, I’ve seen worse.”

The confession sent a shiver racing through Iggie’s veins. Was Alistair speaking of his father wasting away to an Infernal curse? Or had he witnessed other horrors in the course of his duties? This might be the paladin’s first solo assignment as a Knight, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t participated in missions during his training. Had he encountered other duskflame wielders like Iggie…and if so, what had he been forced to do to them?

A hand on Iggie’s shoulder almost startled him into a shriek. He shook off his thoughts as Alistair nudged him out of the way to slip past and open the door. Glancing back at Iggie, he gave a tight smile. “Me first, remember? That was the deal.”

Iggie blinked, watching the paladin proceed down the narrow hall for several seconds before gathering his wits enough to follow. What did it matter what Alistair had or hadn’t done in the past? Whoever Alistair had once been. Iggie knew who he was now. Besides, soon enough their time together would draw to a close, and Iggie would never see him again anyway.

Fighting the pang that arose in his chest at the thought, he trailed the paladin as he made a careful sweep of the rest of the house. Each time Alistair opened a door, his flaming sword raised, Iggie tensed, ready to run or flinch away from the discovery of another corpse. Yet, his worries proved unfounded. They encountered no other people, living or dead. No signs of arcane tomes or ritual circles carved in blood either. It looked like any other home.

“Nothing,” Iggie grumbled as they returned to the room with Julian’s body. “We’d have to do a more thorough search to be certain, but I doubt we’ll find anything incriminating here.” He waved in the vague direction of Julian. “Well, other thanthat, of course.”

Alistair lowered his sword, the dawnflame dimming and casting the room into greater shadow. “I was afraid of that. If Julian and Matrim intended to perform forbidden magic, they wouldn’t have done it here. They likely found a cave outside of town—one we’d be hard-pressed to identify on our own anytime soon.”

Disappointment curdled Iggie’s gut.So much for making myself useful.He started toward the front door, his shoulders slumping. “Well, I guess that’s it for here. Let’s go report Julian’s body, then check out the homes of the other vanished villagers. Maybe we’ll find something in Matrim’s house that the town guard missed.”

“Actually…I had another idea I thought we might try first.”

Something in the paladin’s tone sent unease rippling over Iggie’s skin. He glanced back, raising a brow. “And what’s that?”

“You told me before that you can glimpse the thoughts or emotions of your undead, right?”

Iggie blinked, confusion creasing his forehead. “Sometimes, sure. I might get a flash of a memory through my spirit links or experience a fleeting reaction to something that mattered to them in their old life. It doesn’t happen with any kind of regularity though, and it’s most common among the undead with which I share the strongest connection, such as those I knew while they were alive or those who have only recently…”

His eyes widened as he realized what Alistair was implying. “No! No way! I willnotraise Julian as a skeleton!”

“But you said it yourself—sometimes you’re able to see their memories. We might be able to learn more about how he died or who killed him.”

“It doesn’t work like that!” Iggie gritted his teeth, uncertain if his rising frustration was directed at Alistair or at himself. “I can’t just turn the link on or off on a whim. I’m not strong enough to control it!”

“Have you ever tried?” Alistair asked calmly.

Shock rippled through Iggie, followed quickly by outrage. He narrowed his eyes, but before he could retort, Alistair barreled on, undeterred.