Page 51 of The Necromancer's Prisoner

“So?” Iggie’s back tensed, his shoulders hunching as if beneath a great weight. “That’s no excuse—not really. Matrim had his reasons for what he did, same as me. He never intended to hurt anyone either. But that didn’t stop things from working out that way.”

Helplessness permeated Alistair at the defeat he heard in Iggie’s voice. He stood and tried to move toward Iggie, pausing and holding up his hands in surrender when the necromancer once again scooted warily back. “It was an accident. It doesn’t make you evil.”

Iggie barked a humorless laugh. His eyes, when they finally met Alistair’s, were frozen chips of ice. “Oh, yeah?” He jerked a finger toward the wall separating them from the main room. “Tell that to the abomination of my own I just raised out there. Tell that to your Order or to anyone else in town.” He raised hands crackling with black wisps of duskflame and stared at them, grimacing. “Tell that to the people I murdered. Maybe you’re right—maybe Matrimwasa monster. But so am I.”

In all the battles he’d fought and hardships he’d experienced, Alistair had never felt so powerless, not even following the death of his father. Then, he’d at least had a plan of action. He’d known what to do, even if it hurt, and that certainty had helped him work through his grief.

What was he supposed to do now, faced with a necromancer’s lonely pain?

“Light take everyone else!” he growled, surprising even himself with the ferocity behind his words. Iggie looked up sharply, his face radiating surprise. Perhaps it was the necromancer’s shock, but this time when Alistair strode forward, Iggie didn’t retreat, allowing Alistair to embrace him. Exhaling, Alistair buried his face in Iggie’s neck.

“You are no more a monster than Iam,” he said, his murmured words caressing Iggie’s skin. Even as the voice of reason screamed at him to step back, he traced the ridges of Iggie’s back with his fingers. “Perhaps I judged Matrim too harshly—I don’t know him beyond this single foolish act. But I’ve seen enough of you by now to know that you are a good person. You care about others, Iggie. Singer’s Rest might not see that yet, butIdo.”

Iggie’s body remained rigid several moments longer before he sighed and relaxed into Alistair’s touch. “Thank you. For believing in me even when I don’t believe in myself.”

Swallowing the sudden lump in his throat, Alistair forced a jovial tone. “Of course. These days, I may have more faith in you than I do my own Church.”

He suppressed a wince at the unintended bitterness that crept into his voice, but Iggie only chuckled. The two of them stood there, holding on to one another until Iggie finally stepped back. Reluctantly, Alistair let him go.

“Now what?” Iggie asked. “My minor breakdown aside, we need a plan.”

Alistair hesitated. The beginnings of one had been percolating on the edges of his mind, but it risked foisting more discomfort onto Iggie.What are you more concerned about,his father’s stern voice whispered in his head.Saving Singer’s Rest…or the hurt feelings of one outcast necromancer?

“Think you saw enough of where Matrim performed the ritual in that vision of yours to help us find their hideout?” he asked. His stomach sank when Iggie shook his head.

“Not really.” Iggie sucked on his bottom lip, his face scrunched with thought. “Most of what I got were just impressions, along with flashes of disjointed images. I can sort of picture the cave they used, but there must be hundreds like it hidden in the hills around here. Sorry.”

“That’s all right.” Unable to bring himself to meet Iggie’s eyes, he added, “In that case, maybe you need to dig deeper, see if you can prompt the memory of Julian traveling there to the surface. But that will require you to attempt another spirit link. If you’re not up for—”

“I’ll do it.”

Exactly the response that Alistair had expected. Despite the necromancer’s confident reply, Alistair didn’t miss the way Iggie’s eyes tightened and his skin paled. He might put on a brave face, but he didn’t want to relive Julian’s memories again any more than Alistair wanted to make him. Yet, it remained their best lead.

“Perhaps it would help if we traveled outside town,” Alistair suggested, shoving down his flicker of guilt. “The snowy landscape might put Julian in the right frame of mind.”

Iggie shrugged, and together, they headed for the door.The mission must come first,Alistair told himself as he followed Iggie and Julian’s corpse outside.Before anything…or anyone.

It was a good thing Julian had lived near the edge of town—even covered up by a spare cloak, Julian’s animated skeleton wouldn’t have been able to blend in if they’d had to stride through the town square. As it was, Alistair still snuck nervous glances every which way, expecting at any moment to run into an angry mob of villagers. He didn’t allow himself to relax until Singer’s Rest had vanished behind a ridge.

Raising his hands, Iggie faced his undead and closed his eyes. Both their cloaks flapped around their bodies as dark duskflame coated them in a black slick, standing out in stark contrast to the white snow. As the seconds piled up, Iggie’s jaw tightened, his muscles trembling with exertion while a vein throbbed in his forehead. A spike of pride shot through Alistair at Iggie’s obvious resolve—something he’d never expected to feel for a necromancer performing a spell.

At last, Iggie let out a frustrated huff. “Shadow and shade, this is like sifting for a specific needle in a Dark-cursedpileof them! Julian’s memories are all jumbled together, making it nearly impossible to pull any of them to the surface, let alone the one we need.”

“What about simply commanding Julian to take us to the cave?” Alistair asked.

Iggie sighed, rubbing tiredly at his eyes. Thin wisps of duskflame curled off him like smoke. “I tried that already. Obviously, the order didn’t go through. Julian likely only visited it that once. The route must not be ingrained enough to have left an impression.” He shivered and tugged his cloak tighter about himself. “Or perhaps his terror lingers even in death.”

Recalling what Iggie had told him of Matrim and Julian’s fates, as well as those of the other missing villagers, Alistair fought down his own shudder. “I wouldn’t blame him. Still, we can’t give up. There must be a way to jog his memories. You’ve just got to find the right tact.”

Iggie snorted. “Says the guy whose answer to everything is to burn it with holy fire.”

A smile quirked Alistair’s mouth. “Fair, but not entirely accurate. Though I mainly use my dawnflame for battle, it can accomplish more than coating a fist or a sword. Paladins also wield it as a light source or draw upon it to reinvigorate and heal our bodies. It’s the same principle here. Tell me, what are the properties of your duskflame?”

When Iggie gave him a blank look, Alistair shook his head, fond exasperation filling him. “All right, let’s start with a simpler question. What can youdowith your powers?”

“Animate undead,” Iggie said instantly.

“And?” Alistair pressed. “What else?”