Necromancer Dreams of Mechs Chapter 33: Chapter 39

Read chapter 33 of Necromancer Dreams of Mechs by Magic on NovelPedia.

Chapter 33: Another Offer I followed Alric alone, though my horde silently encircled the camp. Chip and Crack wheeled lazily overhead, their shadows rippling over the wagons. I clasped my hands behind my back as I walked, shoulders square, chin lifted. If anyone looked, they’d see not some half-grown boy, but someone important — someone destined. Or at least, that was the act I tried to sell myself on. This was supposed to be the start of my legend, wasn’t it? A shy, quiet boy turning into the greatest ruler of all time? No. I refused that narrative. I would be proud and commanding now . Even if I had to fake it until my insides stopped squirming. Still, I couldn’t shake the crawling nerves that came with every stare I caught. Most were fearful. Some hopeful. And those hopeful ones made me itch the worst, like bugs crawling under my skin. Alric’s words echoed in my head, louder than I wanted. When we neared the largest tent, the guard captain reappeared — the same one from before — standing stiff, as though his entire body were carved from stone. Beside him, a thin rat-faced man in garish brocade tapped one jeweled finger against his thigh with impatient disdain. Clearly, he wasn’t wearing one of the makeshift sacks I’d handed out. “This is the one who spat upon your name, my lord Duke Matteren,” the guard captain declared, his voice flat and ironclad, like a drill sergeant reciting from script. Highlander growled from my shoulder, and I felt my own lips curl back slightly. “Oye, what is this circus? Are you daft, man?” Alric barked, stepping between me and the captain. “You think dragging the duke here changes anything?” The captain’s men moved like clockwork, seizing Alric by the arms. Their movements were too exact, too inhuman — almost like puppets mid-loading. “Not so bold without your corpses, are you?” sneered one guard, his lips twitching in a strange half-smile before his tone repeated a fraction too long: “None of them will reach you in time, in time, in time—” Steel hissed. The guard captain lunged, his sword flashing upward toward me. For all my forced bravado, my arms shot up like a startled child’s. I braced for the bite of steel— —and Highlander launched. My twelve-inch metal terror spun like a buzzsaw of fury, claws carving through steel as though it were brittle sugar glass. Sword and man both shredded in a storm of sparks and gore. It was over in a blink. And there I stood, frozen, watching Highlander dance in the slurry of what had been a man. My gut twisted. Part of me wanted to retch; another part wanted to laugh and cheer. Instead, both fought in my throat until nothing came out. Alric’s voice cut through, eerily calm. “Well now. That’s not a sight you stumble across every day. Not the strangest lately, but close enough.” “My son! My precious son!” the duke wailed, collapsing to the ground as Highlander did a triumphant jig on what remained of the man’s abdomen. The smell hit me then. Acrid, metallic, vile. My knees buckled as I turned away, gagging, my body dry-heaving uselessly. “Ugh—sorry, it was just the whole—” I couldn’t finish. “Nay, lad, don’t you worry,” Alric said grimly, shaking his head as the other guards released him. “That was madness. After everything we discussed, after your little display — and still the fool struck at you? He was begging for death.” “It’s just the smell,” I muttered, glaring at Highlander, who had found new joy in testing how many times he could wrap the captain’s intestines around his chrome head. “Stop making a mess of the corpse. You’re going to give people the wrong idea.” A girlish voice chimed, melodic yet breathless. “Oh! You’re the Necromancer, aren’t you?” I turned. And for a moment, words abandoned me. She stood there with a poise and beauty that eclipsed anything I’d ever seen — model, actress, goddess, none compared. Her emerald gown shimmered like woven starlight, her features sculpted into perfection that felt unfair. But it wasn’t her beauty that struck m