I somehow felt my strength renewed. Carefully, I sat up on the table and glanced around the laboratory until my eyes finally rested on Master Dagg. Having recalled that traumatizing experience vividly, I placed my hand over the side of my neck, feeling for the wound that was once there; but, it was gone. My eyes went wide as I no longer felt the pain, either.
“Am … Am I dead?” was all I could say in a hushed tone.
Master Dagg chuckled as he approached me. “No, but you would have been if the contagion in your body from the creature's contact had spread any further,” he said. “Your body was beginning to show the initial signs. Fortunately, the combination of the formaldehyde mixture you ingested, with the simultaneous effect of the ricin I injected in your bloodstream was enough to make your body emulate the properties of an undead being, thus making you immune to the contagion. While your body remained in this state, I was able to draw upon enough energy to heal that wound on your neck.”
It all sounded like gibberish to my ears. “What disease?” I demanded. “What did you do to me?!”
He snorted. “I saved your damned life; however, something tells me that it was a mistake.”
“You are a madman!” I shouted angrily. “You and your crazed
He shot a piercing gaze at me before storming over to the table and wrapping his hand around my small neck. I gagged at first, but as he squeezed my windpipe closed, I was gasping for air.
“I will remind you that I am
While death didn't sound like such a bad idea at that point, the thought of such a horrid fate preceding it made me consider otherwise. After he slowly released his grip from around my neck, I rubbed his finger imprints in my skin painfully, afterwards.
I scowled, reluctantly lowering my head and responding bitterly, “Yes …
As another month went by, the life I once knew was nothing more than a faded memory. Master Dagg instilled fear into my mind, reminding me of my place by demonstrating his powers over the most horrific creatures. Furthermore, he threatened my own life of being amongst his undead thralls, should I ever defy him. His procedures were effective enough that he forced me to forget all that occurred prior to his rescuing me that fateful night — including the memories of my family. I did not understand his purpose for doing so, but I complied reluctantly, knowing that questioning his actions usually brought me a world of pain, afterwards — whether physically, or mentally. The scars on my heart remained, however, even as I struggled to forget my past. There was a certain emptiness I always felt when Master Dagg eventually made me aware of the fact that I did have a family at one point; but, that was all he allowed me to know.
Master Dagg's peculiar ways never ceased to amaze me. I soon learned that he was a master of the dead — an
After so many horrific close encounters with creatures of the dead and undead, it wasn't long before my own interest in the Arcanic Arts grew, which he was pleased and willing to teach. Ironically, there was a certain love that we both shared in the quest for knowledge of life and death. I had regretted the day I called him a madman. He was, in fact, a beautiful artist and a master of his trade. I was sacrificed to be his beloved test subject.
“Do not fear death; embrace it,” he would always tell me.
… And I did.
I allowed him, without resistance, to do as he pleased; enduring every spell he cast on me and every substance I was injected with, fully-aware of the hazardous risks. I could not think of a better place to die than with my beloved master, doing what he had taught me to love. Though I had endured the experiments, it did not mean I never felt the effects. I was aware of so many things done to me in so little time that I almost felt as though a part of my soul was dissolved. Yet, despite the consequences, I loved what he did to me. I admired him more than just my master. He was the entity which soothed the darkness that was always inside me. He knew my happiness and pain, and fed upon each in his own search for the Greater Knowledge.
“What is the Greater Knowledge?” I asked him one night as we worked in the laboratory.
He smiled faintly as he responded, looking off into the distance,
My brow furrowed in hearing those riddling words; I was left confused and speechless.
He never spoke any further on the subject whenever I asked again, which only left me curious as to what he was truly planning.
Chapter 8
I awoke late one morning, still feeling tired after another long night's session of properly preserving poisons and spell components. Master Dagg was an excellent teacher, but he almost always overwhelmed me with an incredible amount of information to retain in one night. He would often argue that ‘repetitiveness was what teaches the mind conformity,’ and his words eventually held true after putting me through weeks — months of repetitive and monotonous lessons. While I was not considered a full-fledged arcanist like Master Dagg, I became confident enough in my own skills and knowledge of the Art.
I crawled out of bed and trudged sleepily through the caverns which were still quiet at that hour. I assumed Master Dagg had gone out again. It seemed common for him to set out during the early morning hours to tend to his daily errands, which consisted primarily of restocking supplies for his laboratory.
Master Dagg eventually trusted me enough to leave me alone in his home, well-aware of the risks of his beloved laboratory being used without his permission. Perhaps some other greedy fool might have fallen into such a tempting, but obvious trap; however, I knew better than to dabble into that which I did not fully understand. Master Dagg also allowed me to leave the cave at will, but I was not allowed to go beyond the swamps. A constant overcast loomed in the skies above, shrouding the misty swamps in a blanket of grey shadows.
My mornings generally began with a good hunt. Over the months, I became more proficient in my hunting after studying and mimicking Master Dagg's methods. For a man his size, Master Dagg moved more graceful than a feline. It was apparent that his ability to hunt was innate. Though, I was nowhere near as good of a hunter as he, I was still able to catch enough food to sustain me for the day.
The swamps were always flowing with abundant marine life; the only other signs of life I ever saw. How ironic it was that this small pocket of wetland was cherished by someone so proficient in the Art of death and undeath.
Breakfast today was light, consisting of a weak catch of two small minnows that didn't make much of a dent in my belly's hunger. When I finished, I traversed through the wetlands, allowing my mind to wander. I meditated on the peaceful sounds of the swamps, which invigorated my spirits. This place possessed a hidden beauty of its own — it was no wonder Master Dagg had chosen it to claim as his territory. The swamps were so far from civilization that it was unlikely anyone would think to find him here.
… Or so I thought …
My subconscious snapped back to reality at the faintest sounds of footsteps sloshing through the murky waters. At first, I thought it was Master Dagg, but the movements sounded too slow and full of hesitation, as though the intruder was unsure of their destination. My eyes scanned the immediate area, finally resting on the silhouette of a figure several meters away. The figure sported a human male's build and walked as such.
I stood with a wary feeling in the back of my mind as I watched him approach. “Is he … really
I could not recall the last time I had seen another humanoid creature that was not already a corpse. I doubted Master Dagg had received many visitors out here — nor did I think he would have been very pleased to find one here while he was still away. I licked my dry lips as I struggled with the urge to warn the stranger to turn back, but he spoke first upon noticing me.
