The Power and the Glory

Book 1 Chapter XVII: Necromancy in the Graveyard

Not only are we all in the same boat, but we are all seasick. -- G. K. Chesterton, What's Wrong With the World

In hindsight it's always easy to see the flaws in a plan. No matter how obvious an oversight, it's rarely seen until after it inconveniences everyone. Abi and Irímé had made sure the graveyard was empty before they began digging. Alas, they'd forgotten that people outside the graveyard could see in.

They turned and stared with matching expressions of horror in the direction of the voice. A stranger stared back at them with equal horror mingled with outrage. He stood barely three yards away from them, on the other side of the fence dividing the graveyard from what looked like an open field. There could be no doubt he'd seen everything.

Abi looked around wildly. There was the open grave. The shovels. The mounds of earth. Most damning of all, the corpse was still frozen in place, looking like a dressmaker's dummy someone had put in funeral clothes for a prank.

She took a deep breath and tried to reassure herself. Perhaps the stranger had only just arrived. Maybe he hadn't seen the corpse climb out of the grave by itself.

The man's next action showed how futile that hope was. He glared directly at the corpse, eyes narrowed and mouth set in a grim line. He raised his hand. A rush of magic shot past Abi, close enough for it to make her own magic lash out in defense, and struck the corpse. It shuddered and slumped forward like a puppet whose strings had slackened.

From the brief contact she had with it Abi could tell the man's magic wasn't a sort she was familiar with. Under other circumstances she would have been interested in learning what sort it was and where he had learnt it. But even though she didn't know what it was, she could tell what it was meant to do from her magic's reaction.

It was an exorcism spell.

The corpse straightened up again and went back to imitating a statue. Well, that confirmed that exorcisms were useless against Abi's creations. That information might be helpful in the future.

Perhaps Irímé also realised what the spell was meant to do. Perhaps he simply thought it was time to take matters into his own hands. Whatever his reasoning, he decided now was the perfect time to try mind control. Why in the name of all that was holy did he think that was a good idea? Abi hadn't a clue. She suspected he hadn't, either.

If there was one sort of magic that was almost impossible to master, it was anything to do with manipulating another person's mind. To start with you needed a natural talent for telepathy -- a far greater talent than the simple ability to communicate mentally with someone else. You had to be able to read a complete stranger's mind with perfect accuracy. And when you began to manipulate their mind, you needed a clear picture of what you wanted them to believe and the determination to force them to believe it.

Irímé had none of that. Or if he had, he was the world's best actor and had managed to conceal it from everyone for centuries.

Undaunted by such petty things as common sense or capability, he still tried it.

"Move along," he shouted at the man, backing his words up with as much magic as he could force into them. Unfortunately it was more or less directionless magic that fizzled out without ever reaching its target. "This is perfectly normal. Nothing to see here."

Abi face-palmed. There were times when she simply had to face facts. In this case the facts were simple. Her fiancé was an idiot. And no one liked someone trying to meddle with their mind. Whether or not the attempt was successful never mattered. The fact it was made in the first place was enough to send the most mild-mannered of people on the warpath.