William slammed his forehead on a book about the kinds of souls in the underworld and how to conjure them, letting his whole body collapse on the table in the library. Since he had gotten here, he had spent most of his time inside the library reading all the books when he wasn't eating in the dining area or sleeping in his room. Not that he was unthankful for learning to read and understand archaic language. But he needed some time off. He longed to bask under the sun, smell the fresh air and run around in the market, observing the varieties of food brought from the Americas, Spain or even the uncertain areas of the east.
But as Vlad had reminded him, until Death himself arrives to claim him and pronounce him a true nerco untesevre—a hand of death—he was not to leave the underworld under any circumstances. Despite that the sun never shines in the land of the dead, it wasn't a total loss being stuck here and exploring a dark world. But the only places he could think of going through was the river and the dark forest. Both were prohibited. The river was where the boatman worked, and he didn't like people disturbing his work, he already had the dead to be working with. And according to him, people die in an average of one man per second, leaving the boatman fishing for thousands of souls a day.
So that left him with the forest. He wasn't prohibited per se, it was only that anyone who entered the dark forest would be considered dead; and if not dead, he would die because of all the guardian vanquishing anyone who dared to leave. The forest was, as Vlad had mentioned, the gates to judgment.
A slamming vibration brought back William's drifting attention as he looked up at the source. Vlad had laid five more books for him to read. And this time, they were bigger and stouter than the ones he had finished.
"After you are done, you should start with these," said Vlad. "These are my favorites, since most of these tackle with the body of a corpse. And how to use every single organ to benefit the spells."
He glanced at a book Vlad had opened and caught sight of a page with illustrations of severed body parts. He skimmed through the lines and found that they were meant to be put back together. "What is that?" he asked.
Vlad made a quick look at the page he was looking at. "A flesh-eater," he answered, void of any emotion.
"What's a flesh eater?"
He took the read books and started to file them back at the shelves. "Isn't it obvious? Something that eats flesh."
"Vlad?" he asked, hinting a bit of annoyance at the topic.
Vlad rolled his eyes. "Fine. You want to know about them?" At William's nod, he continued, "Flesh-eaters are one of the—no it is the most difficult minion a necromancer can summon. It involves science, time and a soul. Unlike other summons, which only use the blood, bones or flesh,��� he stated.
"How is time and science involved? And a soul? Isn't that—"
"Wrong?" he cut in. "You forget one of our cardinal rules: Souls are borrowed, never taken."
In his head, William recited the three cardinal rules of necromancy. One: true death is honored, never bestowed; two: souls are never owned only borrowed; and when the two rules are compromised or are in question, never doubt three: Death is our god, he is our master, our Lord, we follow his will. "So the soul is borrowed?" he asked.
He nodded. "The gist: a necromancer harnesses the bodies of the dead in good condition. By good, it means the veins controlling its movements is still intact. If it has deteriorated, a blood spell would be used to fix it or attach another part of an arm from another corpse. They are sewed to each other with threads and blood spells."
"So science is knowing what part of the veins are still capable of movement?" he thought out loud.
"It is. Not many necromancers know what the veins of humans are, though they know most about the organs inside," he answered. "That alone takes too much time, but when you infuse a soul into it to make it move—"
"It takes forever?" he finished
Vlad finished placing the books back and moved towards him. "Souls were never meant to return to a body, much less a decaying one. When they are forced into one, their senses are addled and their memories turn monstrous, because they know they are not supposed to be in that body. It goes against their nature. That is why they act out, be vicious, violent. The reason necromancers use them in battle."
"That is the reason they eat human flesh then?" asked William
He swirled a hand. "Some say, yes. But I say it would be that flesh-eaters despise humans because they see their living souls. They are a reflection of the beauty they were once was. And now they are horrid beasts. It's more of a cry of humiliation rather than hunger."
"Can you make one?" Soon as William spoke those words, he regretted it leaving his mouth. "I'm sorry, that was inappropriate of me to ask." He avoided his stare, but saw a flash of distaste.
"Yes, I can," a gurgle of revulsion sounded on the last syllable. "Mine only lasts an hour…"
He didn't want to press on but he had to ask. "How long does a flesh-eater supposed to last?"
"The longest on record lasted for a week. Before it ate its own flesh and killed itself." Vlad's eyes were distant.
"Who made it?" he enunciated carefully.
A placid smile came to his lips as he tapped the books on the table. "Enough of history, better read on other things."
William laid back and glanced lethargically at his tutor. "Vlad, I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but is there anything else I can learn that does not require me to read another word or memorize another incantation or spell?"
He crossed his arms and looked at his student speculatively. "It seems I have smothered you all the knowledge and provided you no room for play. I guess the youth really hasn't changed that much."
"Is that a yes?"
"Follow me." Vlad straightened his robes and went for the door.