Tears of Blood

“Rise!  Rise!  Rise!  I command thee RISE!”  Urt waved one hand over the corpse in the prescribed fashion and threw the Redroot powder with the other.

Nothing happened.

“Rise damn you!  Rise and do my bidding.” 

The corpse failed to do any such thing.

“You will rise!” screamed Urt, losing his temper. 

The body twitched and, for a brief moment, the eyes opened.  Urt could have sworn a moment of panic passed over the dead mans’ face, but then it was gone, and the body slumped back and remained still.  Again.

“Curses!” 

The necromancer’s apprentice punched the stomach of the corpse, which resulted in no change at all.  It remained dead, counter to everything that was good and natural.  Or at least evil and unnatural, which was the situation here.

“No luck then boss?” a voice said. 

“It must have been the Redroot powder,” he replied.  “Too old.”

“Yeah, and I’ll sprout a body and do the tango.”

“Shut your face you!”  Urt swung round and pointed a finger at the partially rotten head sitting on the table next to him. 

“Oh, that’s it.  Take it out on your only friend in the world.  Like it’s my fault.”  The detached noggin rolled its eyes. 

“You are not my friend,” the young necromancer scowled, brushing back a lock of dark hair that had fallen down over his eyes.  “You are the first of my army.  My undead army of world domination.”

“The head of it I hope.”

“Oh, original.”

“I like to help where I can.”

“Well, you can come with me and help me look for more Redroot.”

“You know it wasn’t the…”

“Shut up.”

“Yes boss.”

Urt stepped back from his latest failed attempt at raising the dead and heaved a deep sigh.  If he was honest with himself, it probably wasn't the root.  It was the same thing that stopped him raising anything larger than a frog.  The same thing that had prevented him from raising anything worthwhile since…

“Hey, if you’re finished with the body, do you mind passing me over a bit of brain?”  Horace, his heady companion, smacked what remained of his lips.

“You ask me that every time, and every time I say no,” he replied, suddenly very weary. 

“No harm in trying.  I’d shrug my shoulders about now,” Horace commented.  “If I had any.”

Urt ignored the zombie head and looked around his small living quarters.  It was a depressing place, even for someone who was supposed to live in depressing places.  The small chamber barely had room for his work bench, which was pushed up against the wall.  Behind him, close enough for him to fall over if he took a step back, was a narrow bunk.  A single window looked out over the marshland that served as scenery in this part of the world.  It was a tiny space. 

“We work with what we have,” he muttered, sitting on his bed, which squeaked and sagged in the middle.

“Don’t get down boss,” said Horace, in an overly cheerful voice.  “You’ll get he hang of it one day, and then it’ll be world domination in no time at all.  Zombies all over the place, obeying your every whim.”

“I appreciate the sentiment,” Urt sighed.  “But I’ll be undead and a lich before that happens at this rate.  Maybe old Mangle was wrong about me.”

“No, he might have been mad and deranged, but he knew his stuff.  If he said you had power, then you have power.  I’m folding my arms and tapping my foot now, for your information,” the head added.

 “Maybe he realized he was wrong.  Maybe that’s why he disappeared.” 

“Come on now.  We’ve been over this so many times,” Horace said.  “He ran into an angry bear or fell into the swamp or something.  There are million things that could have happened to him.  I’m shaking my head sadly about this.”

Urt smiled slightly.  His only, remaining, human success was prone to describing the actions of the body it didn’t have when feeling under stress.  “We all do what we can,” he murmured.

“That’s the sprit boss!  Come on, let’s get rid of this useless body and find some Redroot shall we?  I’ll give you a hand… Haha!  Never gets old that one.  I’m holding my sides now.”

“Why does my only speech capable minion think he’s a comedian?”  Urt stood up.  “Very well, let’s go for a walk.” 

“Great.  Now, where did I leave my shoes?”

This is the start of my new one, and you can read more of it over at: TomeCity.com