30 Days Of Undead Summer

Genesis: Noah

#MagicMonday

Pre-Zombie Outbreak - 

Master Silva spends his recovery time learning of the world he has found himself in. Silvestre mentions a great wizard, able to bring the dead back to life. Master Silva devotes his time to finding him for his automaton is complete but it requires a soul...  

-

Perceval the Wandering Necromancer seems of less import and even less intimidation as he stands before me. The fiery curls of his hair puff right through the bone headdress he wears. A garment of multi-colours hangs down his skinny body. A golden sceptre is clasped between pale, wrinkled fingers. Atop the sceptre is an emerald skull that gleams every few seconds.

Skulking behind him, caressed in violet plumes, are skeletal guards armed with sword and shield. Their eye sockets glow amber.

"What brings you to my castle?" the Necromancer squeals. It is less of a castle and more of a wooden tower built seemingly by children, balanced against palm trees. Moving sluggishly about and carrying wooden boards are rotting corpses losing what little flesh they had against the heat. It explains the skeletal guards.

"I am in need of your succour, great Necromancer." I bow to him and Perceval shuffles forward.

"I have never seen you before. You must be new in Sándorné."

"That is correct. I come from... a distant land. Cardiff."

"Never heard of it in all my travels. Rise."

I lift my head and wait. A breeze wafts through the oasis where Perceval has built his home. It is beautiful.

"What of me do you require, Cardiffite?"

I turn towards the metallic coffin behind me – a makeshift refrigerated container. Pulling it open releases a cold hiss. On the cushioned base lies my automaton. I carry him to the Necromancer,

"My boy... I was hoping you could restore him to life."

Perceval glances at the boy with raised brow. There is no visible sign that the boy is not human and merely clockwork and synthetic skin. That he has never lived.

"He's not your son... or of kin." He eventually states.

"He is a waif, rescued from the street and had been my apprentice before he was struck with an affliction."

Perceval's eyes do not seem convinced but he nods his head anyway.

"What of me do you expect?"

"I have heard great praise regarding your work. You are the sole necromancer after all, and with good reason."

"Haughty praise from a stranger to our land. Either my reputation precedes me, or you are full of hot air young man."

"Father Galloway and his daughter send their regards."

At this Perceval's eyes narrow. The skeletal guards rattle to life and raise their swords. A moment later they shiver back to their original form. Silent. Still.

"Place the boy down."

"Thank you, great sorcerer!"

Perceval places the sceptre over the boy's heart, twirling the emerald skull around. The necromancer's thin lips mumble incantations and we watch as ethereal violet tendrils seep from the sceptre and into the boy's chest.

From my back pockets, I withdraw two iron rods etched with the symbols of specific chemical compositions. I too begin a quiet enchantment, twirling the rods behind me progressively. From above, a single dark cloud begins to form.

Perceval raises the staff and thrusts it into the ground. The haze from his sceptre engulfs the boy.

I too raise my hands.

"What are you doing!?" Perceval shouts. The skeletal guards thrum to life. There is no time. I connect the rods together and plunge them through the haze and against the automaton's heart.

The world crackles as thunder snaps from the sky and strikes me. I feel it's energy pulse like razors within my bones, as though my very marrow boils. It flows through me. Veins darkening to purple down my arms as the electric current runs into the rods and from the rods to the metallic heart.

The guards have rushed forward and attempt to slice through me, only their blades deflect against my skin, thrusting the electric current through them too so they dance in pulsing lights. A moment later they whiz past like projectiles, spewing desert sand in puffs.

"Come on!" I hear myself scream. The pain begins to crawl across my chest and neck.

I hear the gasp from below. The haze about the boy is suddenly sucked into his mouth in a single gulp. The rods in my hands seem stuck, and as I pull them off and separate,  an electric jolt sparks and I too am thrown backwards into the desert sand. 

Before the darkness swallows me, I see the boy's arm rise and know I have succeeded. My creation lives. My Noah.

*

Technically Perceval's skeletal guards and construction crew are zombies.