Chapter 15

Arkinstar smiled, admiring his work. His new lair was pristine. He had set up in a new sewer hideout beneath Skingrad. Already, his bookshelves were standing against the walls and a table had been put up up in order for him to work on necromancy. Alchemy and enchanting tables were pushed against another wall, with a chest filled with materials next to each.

Cracking his withered hands, he decided it was time to work on a new project. With a snap of his fingers, a book flew off of one of the shelves and into his hands. Along its spine was the title "Secrets of the Darkest Art," and a picture of a screaming skull.

It had taken ages for Arkinstar to secure the tome. It had last been seen in the hands of Mannimarco, the legendary necromancer. During the Oblivion Crisis, the Archmage of the Mages Guild had stopped the King of Worms from rising to power again. In doing so, the book was lost for more than a century, but Arkinstar had his methods of finding it.

It took many long weeks of scrying and travelling, but he managed to track it down. Smiling at the memory of finding it, Arkinstar took a deep breath. He knew his goal was closer to fruition than it had ever been before. In it were the details of the ascension to lichdom. The process of unbinding one's soul, of creating a phylactery to hold their essence, was too close to be real.

Naturally, the process was difficult, but he was confident in his abilities. He had worked a way around the obstacles and the time consuming process. However, he would need more test subjects. Lots of test subjects. Pondering for a minute, he decided that he needed them both live and dead.

With one hand, Arkinstar shut the book. Snapping his fingers with the other, he sent it flying back onto its shelf. With a swish of his robes, he turned and headed through the twisting halls to the exit. He couldn't help notice how much less suitable these sewers were. They were much smaller and less winding. It would be easy for someone to find his laboratory after stumbling in.

Thinking quickly, he decided that once he returned from his expedition, he would cast some sort of a fear enchantment on the door handle, causing anyone who touched it to run away.

Sometimes, he thought it was incredible that no one else could understand what he did. Were they really so dull that they could not fathom the things he saw? And as for their magical skill, it sometimes made him laugh to think that necromancers that were considered 'powerful' were those who could summon a mere two zombies at once. Pitiful.

The sewers opened onto a field of grass so green it made Arkinstar's head hurt. Even though it was night, it's color didn't seem to fade enough for his liking. Rolling his eyes, he cast a powerful detect life spell that he had adapted. It allowed him to see life up to almost a mile away, what species it was, and what they were doing.

Upon casting it, a large mass of people were visible not to far to the west. Elves and humans, fighting. Another battle in this so called 'great' war. He smiled. This was perfect. He waved his hand and vanished, having cast an invisibility spell upon himself.

Arkinstar was fast and quiet, sliding across the earth with hardly a sound. He passed an elk, stupidly munching on grass, and it took much restraint to stop himself from killing it on sight. He hated wild animals.

In time, he arrived at the war zone. The light of weak destruction spells flashed, glinting on the armor of the Imperial Legion. A few quick observations led to the astonishing discovery that the Empire seemed to be winning this fight. Barely able to contain his laughter, Arkinstar scanned the ground. There were at least twenty or thirty fresh corpses, and more on the way.

It was then that he noticed with disgust where they were fighting. A large statue of a woman wearing robes stood near to the soldiers, her hands held forwards. It was the old Shrine of Meridia, the detestable Daedra who despised the undead. Countless of her worshippers had tried to stop him in the past. None were successful, obviously.

Shaking his rage out of his head, Arkinstar looked down just in time to see the last elf fall, an Imperial soldier having slashed her across the neck. The young man fell to his knees, running his fingers through his hands.

He laughed nervously. "We did it," Arkinstar heard him say. "By the divines, we actually did it!" Then he vomited.

Arkinstar began to make his way over to the twelve or so remaining specimens. He was ten feet away when he stopped to listen some more.

"Ugh, Earin, you're disgusting!" another Imperial shouted. "Come on, I want to get back to Skingrad and hopefully get some sleep."

With that, Arkinstar snapped his fingers, ending the duration of the spell. The soldiers jumped, a few brandishing their swords in his direction.

"What the!?" yelped the same Imperial. He was by far the biggest of the group, and appeared to be their leader. "Where did- who are you!?"

"I'm sorry," Arkinstar said sarcastically, with a cold smile. "But you won't be going back to Skingrad. You will sleep though. For a long time." He raised one hand dramatically, waving it around in a complex manner. Purple light began glowing in his palm.

The leader jumped back in alarm. "Kill him!" he shouted in a panicked voice. The others all unsheathed their weapons and began running at the necromancer.

"Hush now," Arkinstar whispered. "The scent of your fear will only make them more aggressive." A bright flash of light temporarily blinded the Empire's army, causing them to stop for a moment. When it faded, at least fifty skeletons had appeared behind the elf. "Capture, don't kill," he commanded.

Trying not to laugh at how pathetic they were, Arkinstar watched their little eyes widen with terror. Four of them stumbled back, too shocked to fight or even run. Seven others had already turned tail and fled, leaving only the leader standing defiantly. Arkinstar grinned at seeing the weakling's legs tremble, sweat beading on his forehead.

Less than a second later, the Imperial was on the ground, buried under a mass of living bones. His screaming was music to Arkinstar's ears. More skeletons chased mauled the four who couldn't run, leaving the rest to chase down. He sighed in delight. It had been too long since he had shown someone what true horror is.

His robes fluttering like leaves in the autumn, Arkinstar walked slowly to the now unconscious leader. His servants had done incredible work, as usual. The man was out cold, with hardly a scratch on him. Best to keep the meat fresh.

Looking up, he saw that the other skeletons had returned, holding the rest of the poor excuse for an army. Twelve test subjects. This was simply going perfectly. Snapping his fingers, Arkinstar commanded them to carry his victims back to the sewers, to tie them up and gag them. He would join them in a minute, but he had some work to do.

Arkinstar glared menacingly at the statue of the Daedra. Stepping towards it, he swallowed his untempered fury.

"So," he whispered. "Do you still think you can stop me? Are you going to send more of your little worshipers to their deaths?" There was no response. Of course not. But he knew she was listening. Meridia hated him too much not to be.

"You've only ever helped me, sending me more corpses for my research. I bet you think that each time you send a new fool after me that they will be the one. There will never, never, be the one."

Meridia's statue just stood there, unchanging, ignoring the necromancer's words and threats.

"You can't win against me. You're pathetic gifts of life and your so called 'infinite energies' will always give way to death, and death is my realm. So, what will it be? Send more of your followers to their deaths, or leave me to complete my work?"

The Daedra gave no signs that she had heard.

"Answer me!"

Again there was silence.

"ANSWER ME!" Arkinstar screamed, conjuring a great gout of flame that sent the shrine toppling to the ground. His face contorted in rage, he sent fireball after fireball at the statue, crumbling it to dust. Then he spat on the remains, and turned to head back to the sewers.

He had better things to think about than the weak influence of a foolish and powerless goddess.