Damian went through the remaining drawers as Catherine settled in to read the diary. The drawers held Hans’s personal research notes. As Damian read on, his hands clenched the papers tighter and tighter. The direction Hans took in his research was a perversion of Egyptian necromancy. Ancient Egyptian necromancers were caretakers to the dead, they would conduct rituals to communicate with the dead for advice or to calm restless spirits. Rarely did they raise the dead and when they did it was from either soldiers sworn to service of the royal family or laborers needed for specific tasks. Even then a healthy amount of respect was used in the rituals.

  Hans took that concept and twisted it in the darkest way he possibly could. The ritual he was using was meant to trap the soul of his victims in their bodies and torture and warp them beyond recognition. The process would scour the soul of any personality and bar it from any afterlife to prevent the soul from escaping. It would tie the soul to the body’s nervous system and dial up the sensitivity all the way. After which the soul would feel everything done to the body while it was trapped. Once the soul was essentially a vegetable, Hans would layer in commands and bindings that would enslave it to his will.

  Damian stopped reading and placed down the papers and stepped away. He needed to focus on something, anything else to calm himself down. It seemed that a pair of gods were listening to his thoughts as a system window popped into his vision.

  Damian barely had time to finish reading the prompt before a flash off to the side captured his attention. A large ornate sarcophagus slammed down onto the workbench and started to grind open. A bandaged hand reached out and began to push the lid to hurry its pace. Catherine let out a startled shout and was about to rush the sarcophagus and start slamming her mace into the mummy’s hand when Damian stopped her.

  “I just received a task from Osiris and Anubis. I am fairly certain this is their messenger, delivering their promised reward.”

  An ancient, dusty, yet regal voice echoed in the room as the mummy rose from the sarcophagus. “Indeed, sayyād. I am Kher-Heb Aban. I serve lord Osiris and have delivered the device he promised. It should help you in capturing the necromancer so I may send him to the Duat for judgment.”

  Damian approached the mummy carefully, “Lord Osiris gives me much honor with this task. May I have the blueprints and items so I can prepare to apprehend the criminal.”

  “You may, I will do my best to assist you but I am not much of a fighter or craftsman I am afraid.” Kher-Heb Aban reached back into the sarcophagus and retrieved a scroll of papyrus and a small box the length of his forearm.

  Damian took the box and papyrus with care and moved back to the desk to set them down. He opened the scroll and began to read.

  Whisper Wind Dart: The whisper wind dart is a master craft of subtle engineering, appearing to be nothing more than an eight-inch length of ebony wood. The dart tapers to a needle-sharp point that upon breaking skin rapidly deploys its payload into the blood stream. The wider point of the dart holds an inert, highly compressed gas the with the flick of a specific pressure point on its shaft will send the dart rocketing at high speeds towards it target.

  Damian looked through the box next, it held the subtle mechanisms in its confines. The combined subtle pressure point and pressurized cannister, along with the automatic injector. The only thing missing was a proper housing and needle. It also held the formula for a soporific that when properly distilled could interrupt necromantic control links.

  Damian called Catherine over and had her look at the blueprint. “Think you could make it out of the gryphon’s zenith bronze?”

  Catherine took the blueprint and read through it quickly. “Hmm, yeah, I can make that for you. It will take a few hours though; I didn’t bother smelting the bronze before now. What will you do in the mean time?”

  Damian waved the formula in his hand. “I’m going to visit Gugulethu and her grandmother to see if they can’t make this for me. Need me to do anything while I’m running about?”

  Catherine waved him off as she pulled out her smithing cube. “No, go on. I’ve got this handled, just tell bronze to give a call if she spots anyone coming.”

  Damian agreed and set off into the night.

  Damian returned to the manufacturing facility satisfied. Not only had the old Inyanga been able to distill the needed soporific, she had even handed him ten sealed bottles of a fungus based pressurized gas. That gas would propel the dart at higher speeds than the one the device came with. She even gave him the formula and a bag’s worth of mushrooms as thanks for having Nkosi arrested.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  Damian entered the third floor and was surprised at the changes. The room seemed to be overlayed by two separate realities. One the necromantic ritual chamber/office, and the other a steam powered smithy. The smelter was large monstrosity of whirling gears and whirring dials that covered the entire left half of the room. It was automated with timed stages that would add ingredients at precise intervals as a crucible traveled along a heated conveyor. It was all deposited into sealed container that would sink into the floor and release a gout of steam as the metal rapidly cooled. The right side held a more normal looking furnace albeit with an automatic bellows. It was operated on a winch mechanism, controlled by a valve near the furnaces opening to adjust the internal temperature.

  Catherine stood off to the side tongs dipped into oil as she finished the final quench of the needle. When she noticed him standing in the doorway, she energetically waved him over. “Perfect timing! I just finished the basic form of the dart as outlined by that blueprint of yours. This is supposed to be a hidden weapon, right? I’ll add some etchings and engravings to make it look like a decorative piece. Your hair has gotten kind of long you can use it as a pin for a pony tail.”

  Damian just nodded, “Is it just me or did your smithy get larger? I’m certain the smelter wasn’t that large when we used it before.”

  Catherine just shrugged, “It apparently fills the room. Now, shoo, I have work to finish.”

  Damian chuckled and let her get back to work. He returned to the desk where he left the mechanical parts of his new weapon. He took out the injector apparatus and began to fill it with the soporific. The distillation was made from a plant called Somnus Bloom, named after the roman god of sleep. The plant had a potent neurotoxin that acts as a sedative and induces strange dreams in those that are injected with it. Importantly the sudden psychological shock and neural disruption make it hard for its victims to concentrate or assert their will. Something necromancers require to instruct their thralls and bound spirits.

  When Damian finished filling the injector and propulsion device with their respective gasses, Catherine finished with her engravings. The dart casing was a burnished gold-bronze with feather-like striations. Catherine leaned into the look, and made it look like their favorite Tlanuwa, Bronze. The body of the needle looked like Bronze mid dive, wings folded, talons tucked. It continued down to her head, with life-like eyes focused on prey only it could see, and the needle was hidden in the beak.

  “This looks amazing, Catherine!” Damian breathed out as he examined the casing.

  Catherine had a smug look on her face, “Knew you’d like it! Well? What are you waiting for put it together! I want to see how it works!”

  She deactivated her smithy cube and put it away, as she focused on the device now in Damian’s hands, returning the room to normal. Damian chuckled and started to insert the mechanical parts of the dart. He needed a pair of tweezers and an Allan wrench to lock the injector in, but once done, it was locked securely in place.

  “Perfect fit. Nice job with the measurements, there isn’t even a millimeter of wasted space!” Damian said.

  Catherine grinned and leaned in to watch the rest of the assembly. The propulsion device went in next, locking in place with tiny bolts, that made up the third claw on each talon. The pressure point that would launch the whisper wind dart was hidden in the carved tailfeathers. With a final inspection to confirm that nothing was loose or at risk of breaking, the device was complete.

  “Here let me help.” Catherine quickly gathered his hair into a pony tail and used the dart to pin it in place. She made sure to angle it so it looked like Bronze was diving through his hair. “Perfect! Preparations are complete let’s clean up the corpses on the ground floor and get ready to ambush our wayward necromancer.”

  Damian and Catherine quickly removed all the corpses visible upon entry and took up positions. Damian on the catwalk with a line of sight on both the larger vehicle entrance and the side employee entrance. Catherine had a more dangerous assignment; she was waiting. She would be responsible for closing the doors and locking Hans inside so he couldn’t escape; while dealing with any lackeys he brings with him. They settled in for a long wait once they were in place.

  It was an hour after sunrise that their quarry made his appearance. He was walking this time, accompanied by eight men and woman. Hans paused when he didn’t see anyone through the windows. He still saw the shadow of his zombie on the fourth floor, so he wasn’t too concerned. It wouldn’t be the first time he would need to punish and replace some lazy guards. He waved his minions to take up guard positions outside the building and made his way inside the building. He stormed in annoyance on his face and made a call for the idiots left to guard over night to come down. He received no response. It was also at this time that he noticed he no longer had a connection to the zombie on the fourth floor. He heard shouts from outside and the distinct, ominous clang of a locked door.

  It was a trap! No, matter those foolish inquisitors wouldn’t be able to stop him. He just needed to summon his Schneller Geist and that would be it. There was a prick on the side of his neck and he began to feel woozy. Just as he was about to fade into unconsciousness he heard from above him the unmistakable voice of Exterminator Damian, “Well that was anticlimactic. I honestly expected more from someone who calls himself puppet master.”

  When Hans next regained consciousness he found himself on the familiar fourth floor of his building. He was strapped down on his own alter. In front of him stood a mummy in priest robes and behind him was the damned MHL inquisitor team. He tried to scream his fury at them and promise vengeance but his mouth was stuffed with cloth.

  “Huh, he woke up guess I owe you dinner after this. Should have known better than to take that bet.” Damian said to Catherine.

  Catherine fist pumped in triumph, “Feck yeah, I knew it would be more cinematic if he woke up.”

  Cinematic? What the hell did that mean? Before Hans could ponder on that for too long, a dry commanding voice stole his attention.

  “Hans Kistenmacher you are guilty of desecrating the knowledge bestowed upon mortals by Lord Thoth! For your crimes the Lord of Silence and The Guardian of the Scales call for your soul! In the name of Osiris, I sacrifice you so you may receive his judgment! In the name of Anubis, I condemn you so you may be tortured as your victims were before being sent to Ammit, Eater of Souls!”

  The mummy brought down a peseshkef, straight through his heart. There was a burning pain that spread through his body, then Hans, the man, knew no more. His soul however found itself in front of a large ornate throne upon which sat a giant green pharaoh. Next to the throne stood a large, well-built man with a jackal for a head. Neither looked at him with anything but scorn. The man on the throne spoke to the jackal headed man, “Son, begin the judging.”